


Patron Saints

by castielsdemons



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, Bad Boy Dean, Bisexual Dean, Bottom Dean, Catholic School, Complete, Crisis of Faith, Depression, Drama, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eventual Sex, First Time, Gay Panic, Homophobia, M/M, Mentions of Underage Sex, Roman Catholicism, Slow Build, Slow Burn, sucky parents
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-23
Updated: 2016-03-13
Packaged: 2018-04-03 21:38:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 26
Words: 63,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4115797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/castielsdemons/pseuds/castielsdemons
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel is renowned for two things in his tiny Catholic high school: his laughably close relationship with his sister (who happens to be his best and only friend), and his ability to be annoyingly pious in the best of cases.<br/>And then he meets Dean Winchester. Castiel knows his type—arrogant, provocative, and godless—and he's sure that they're never going to get along.<br/>Well... <i>pretty</i> sure.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Things worth noting:  
> 1\. Castiel's parents are going to be an extreme example of homophobia here. However, they're based off of real examples that I've found.  
> 2\. Cas is going to be a bit of an asshole. To people who aren't religious or don't know much about Roman Catholicism, his actions may not seem to make sense.  
> 3\. I was raised Catholic, and in a Catholic school as a child. This is partially based off of my own experiences and memories in Catholic school, and my own personal struggles that came with that upbringing.  
> 4\. I don't want to antagonize any religious people here. I mostly want to antagonize the people who are jerks to others but use God as an excuse to do so.  
> 5\. This is a work in progress. Don't be surprised if I change things around, add things, or delete things. It's all part of the writing process! :)
> 
> Other than that, enjoy this chapter and I hope you stick around!

** PART ONE: WINTERTIDE**

 +++

Saint Jude Catholic High School looks wholly unremarkable from the outside. A red-brick building with the name emblazoned on the front in large, plain letters. The windows are dark and tinted, the school garden empty and cold in the winter air. Castiel remembers being younger, a child, reading about the saints in his textbooks. St. Jude Thaddeus, the apostle, patron saint of desperate situations.

How fitting that they would name a high school after him.

Castiel’s shoulders curl under the cold winter wind. The January weather is biting and unforgiving. The day-old snow on the sidewalk is gray with dirt and filth, watery and half-melted from the feet that have walked in it. The first day back from winter break is the hardest, he tells himself. He can get through it.

Anna, Castiel’s sister, walks beside him. A scarf is wrapped around her mouth and nose. Her small frame is also bent against the wind, and she holds onto Castiel’s arm for guidance. They don’t speak, but they move in tandem.

They stumble inside the building, the door swinging shut behind them. They’re both panting slightly from having run the last yards to make it inside.

The hallways are packed with students milling around before class.

“Oh, come on,” Bela Talbot is saying to her circle of friends. “That boy is definitely beautiful and you know it. His _name_ even sounds hot. _Dean Winchester_.”

 _Speaking of desperation,_ Castiel thinks to himself.

He knows he shouldn’t judge. He is human and fragile, and it is not his job to place judgment. Sometimes it’s difficult, however, when it comes to people like Bela Talbot.

Charlie Bradbury rolls her eyes at Bela as the rest of the girls giggle. Charlie isn’t exactly part of Bela’s clique, but she’s friends with everyone, so it’s no surprise that she’s talking to her. “I’m just saying, Bela, that it’s impossible to know for sure until you actually see him for yourself. He could have a third eye and scales for all we know.”

“Well, then, he has a little brother,” Ruby says, only half-joking.

The girls all laugh again, and Anna rolls her eyes. She starts walking towards her locker, Castiel following. Since they’re twins and the lockers are assigned by last name, theirs got put right next to each other.

“They don’t even know what he looks like and they’re ready to fall in love with him,” Anna says. “Or should I say lust?”

“I hardly think Bela Talbot would know the difference,” Castiel murmurs. Anna giggles and Castiel cracks a smile. There’s a shallow, guilty feeling churning in his stomach, which he ignores for now.

They talk as they begin to get ready for the school day. Mundane things he doesn’t even have to think about. Castiel always liked talking with Anna, because it was easy and came naturally. She is definitely his best friend.

Castiel opens his locker and stuffs his giant winter coat inside. He takes the beanie off his head and runs a hand through his dark hair, efficiently giving him a look of having just rolled out of bed, which is basically true. Unzipping his backpack, he starts stuffing his books and binders inside for his first few classes.

The warning bell rings above them, and Anna stands on her tiptoes to kiss Castiel on the cheek before leaving to go to her own homeroom.

“Whoa, incest,” says a girl passing by. Castiel recognizes her as one of Bela’s disciples—Lillith, he thinks her name is. Anna turns around and flips her off, while she walks away laughing with her friends.

“Anna,” Castiel reprimands.

“It’s fine, Cas,” she says, and then sighs. “My problem, not yours. I’ll fix it later.”

It’s not the first time someone has made fun of their close sibling relationship. It used to make Castiel angry, but he’s long since gotten over it. Anna, however, has always had trouble with people making jokes at her expense, and is not going to let this go easily.

“Try not to get in trouble with the principal, this time,” Castiel tells her. They begin walking towards Anna’s first period class. “You’re up to two strikes already.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she says. “Well, not everyone can be perfect like you.”

Castiel is surprised at the statement, especially from someone like Anna. “I’m not—” he starts, automatically going to deny it.

“Later,” she cuts him off. “This is my stop. I’ll see you at lunch?”

“Yeah,” he confirms, and drops the subject. She slips inside the classroom, and Cas rushes to make it to his first class. He drops into his seat right as the bell rings.

He’s lost in his thoughts for a moment, thinking back on what Anna just said to him. He doesn’t understand—they tell each other everything, and this is the first time she’s mentioned something of this nature. Well, they tell each other everything, with the inclusion of Gabriel, their older brother.

He doesn’t want Anna to be resentful of him. Castiel has his flaws, too. Was he just with her, making fun of Bela Talbot in the hallway? Didn’t he just call her desperate? Didn’t he say she didn’t know what love was?

“So what do you think of the new kid, Castiel?” a voice asks to his left. He lifts his head to see who it belongs to and connects his gaze with Samandriel, a kind, shy boy that Cas has known since kindergarten. Samandriel is the closest Castiel has to a real friend, one that’s not Anna or Gabriel.

Again, with this new kid? He knows their school is small, in a town that’s relatively small as well, but he doesn’t understand this infatuation with Dean Winchester.

“I think he’s a human being,” Castiel says simply.

Samandriel raises his eyebrow and a boy in the background—Balthazar—scoffs.

“Of course he’s a human being,” he says, “you think we let aliens or dogs in this school?”

Laughter erupts around Castiel, his cheeks heating up. He ducks his head down and looks at the book in his lap instead, hoping that they go back to their conversation without him.

“I don’t know, Balth. They let _you_ into this school,” Benny says, and the boys laugh louder.

“No, I think Castiel has a point,” Samandriel says kindly. Surprisingly, the other boys listen. “Explain what you meant for us.”

Castiel looks up again, warily eyeing everyone else. He takes a breath before saying, “I think the obsession everyone seems to have with him is misplaced. He’s just a boy. Any infatuation with him is like a child being infatuated with a shiny object.”

“So you think people don’t really care about him?” Samandriel says.

“No, I think he’s something new to look at.”

“Heaven knows we need something new to look at,” Samandriel says, smiling slightly.

Castiel cocks his head at him, confused. Before he gets the chance to say anything, however, the teacher calls the attention of the class, and begins roll call.

+++

He makes it to fourth period without having a class with Dean Winchester. However, being a small school, Castiel thinks that it’s not long before he has a class with him.

Fourth period is lunch. He meets Anna outside the cafeteria, his backpack slung on one shoulder.

Anna immediately starts talking about her classes, complaining and repeating interesting instances that happened in each one as they join the end of the lunch line. She talks much more than Castiel, but he is content to just sit and listen, and she is content to tell stories.

They get their lunches and find an empty table—their usual spot, that people have courteously left empty.

Castiel starts to eat, alternating bites between looking at an open math textbook next to his tray. He’s pretty sure he heard someone talking about a pop quiz with a teacher he has, and he doesn’t want to be ill-prepared—

“The new boy is staring at you,” Anna says, interrupting his thoughts.

It takes a second for his mind to comprehend what she just said. He looks up, blinking a few times before it settles in. “Is he?” he asks, somewhat bored and slightly surprised.

She nods. “He’s attractive,” she adds, as a sidenote.

Cas raises an eyebrow at her.

“What?” she asks innocently.

He just shakes his head. “I don’t understand the infatuation with him,” he says. “He’s a boy. They make up 50% of the population of this school.”

Anna shakes her head at him, like he’s a small child that’s done something goofy and cute. “You don’t know the story behind him?”

Castiel stares blankly at her. “No. I don’t… gossip.”

She just rolls her eyes at him. “You mean you have no social life.”

Cas crosses his arms over his chest defensively. “I talked to people in class this morning.”

“Yeah, one day out of—”

“Okay, I get it, Anna,” Castiel interrupts, mock-offense in his voice. “What’s the story?”

Anna looks smug and victorious, but she doesn’t brag. “He was expelled from his last school. His parents put him in this school to straighten him out.”

Castiel nods. “Wow. So girls love him because he’s a troublemaker? What did he do? Take a picture of a test and send it to his friends? Get in a fight with a student?” He takes a leisurely drink from his water bottle, unimpressed.

Anna bites her lip, like she’s contemplating whether or not she should tell him. “People say he had sex with a teacher.”

Castiel almost does a spit take. He chokes down his drink before stuttering out, “W-what?”

She nods gravely. “If it were anyone else, I wouldn’t even consider it to be real. But looking at him…” She turns in her chair, glancing back at the table where Dean Winchester is sitting. “I could almost believe it’s true.”

Soon enough, conversation is directed towards other topics.

Lunch wraps up, Anna and Castiel talking about upcoming assignments. Anna complains that she has a test in two days.

“It’s not right,” she says. “It should be illegal to test children right out of winter break. It’s downright abusive.”

Castiel consoles her, somewhat.

When they both start to make off to their own separate classes, Castiel realizes they never talked about what Anna said to him this morning.

Castiel settles into his seat in his science class. He pulls out his binder and grabs a pencil from the bottom of his bag.

He sits alone, at the very back of the class. Cas has always been a black sheep at this school. He’s never really been made fun of, but people most often avoid him because of his awkwardness and stilted social skills.

That’s fine. Castiel is okay with working alone.

And then Dean Winchester walks into class, right as the bell rings. He hears the heavy weight of his boots hitting the floor. Against Castiel’s right judgment, he looks up to see Dean’s face out of curiosity.

His heart almost stops.

Castiel hasn’t gotten a good look at Dean until now. He’s wearing a leather jacket, over the school-issued green polo shirt, the boots on his feet making his footsteps louder, more distinct. He has eyes that are candy-apple green. There’s a smattering of freckles on his nose that add a strangely boyish quality to him, enhanced by the mischievous smirk adorning his lips.

There are two open seats. One is next to Bela, because her previous lab partner switched classes this semester. The other is next to Castiel.

Castiel has a sudden sense of disappointment when he realizes that Dean’s going to pick the spot next to Bela Talbot to sit. For a brief, brief second, Castiel wishes he was in Bela’s skin so he can sit next to the boy. He wants Dean Winchester to sit next to him, for some reason—he’s not even entirely sure of the emotion he’s feeling, or why he’s feeling it, he just feels drawn to Dean.

 _Attracted_ , that’s the word for it.

Oh, no.

No. He doesn’t want to be Bela. He wants to be Castiel: studious, unwavering, absolutely nobody. That was a perfectly fine identity two minutes ago, why not now?

He looks down, going back to his work. Dean will just choose the seat next to Bela. And that’s fine. Of course it is.

He jumps when he hears the seat next to him scrape across the floor, the new kid sitting down in it. Next to him.

Castiel looks at him in surprise, and Dean flashes him a provocative smile that makes Castiel blush and look back to the papers in front of him. He hears Dean chuckle low in his throat—a warm, sweet sound, like honey.

“Hey,” Dean says.

Castiel looks up timidly. “Hello,” he says, and it’s nearly a whisper.

Dean laughs at his shy answer, a rich sound that washes over Castiel like waves. “‘S‘okay, man. I don’t bite.” He smirks, his eyes filled with mischief. “Unless you’re into that.”

Castiel blinks, his heart stuttering at Dean’s words. “Wha—I don’t—I’m not—”

He laughs again. “Shit, calm down,” Dean says. He holds out a hand for Castiel to shake. “I’m Dean. Dean Winchester.”

 _I’m well aware,_ he doesn’t say. Castiel just takes his hand and shakes it once, affronted. “I’m Castiel Novak,” he says, trying to keep the shake out of his voice. He can’t even make _eye_ _contact_ with this guy.

“Castiel,” he says. The name, sounding alien in any other context, sounds like poetry in his voice. “I like it. Very original.”

“Thanks, I’ll tell my mother,” Castiel says, before he can stop himself.

Dean raises an eyebrow, a small, appreciative smile starting to form on his face. “Damn, aren’t you a little firecracker,” he mutters.

The teacher calls for attention at the front of the classroom. As he starts to call roll, it occurs to Castiel that Dean is—Dean is flirting with him. Pretty heavily, too—he keeps putting his hand on Cas’ knee, leaning in closer than socially acceptable, glancing at Castiel’s lips and not even trying to hide it.

It’s making Cas nervous, first of all, because he doesn’t know how to react. Secondly, they are _in class_. And thirdly, he’s pretty sure Dean’s just doing this to mess with him.

Also—for the record—Castiel was 100% sure that he wasn’t attracted to guys before this boy walked into class, and he’s pretty sure a freak-out is in order, because this doesn’t even make sense.

He wasn’t entirely attracted to girls, before—sure, he could acknowledge the fact the girls were attractive, but he never had an overwhelming urge to kiss a girl. Or kiss anyone, for that matter. Sure, he’s had his first kiss, but that was a long time ago and he never really felt compelled to repeat the experience. This doesn’t make sense any way that you spin it.

“Dean, stop,” Castiel finally says, when they’re set loose to work on their assignment. “I’m not—I’m not gay.”

“Hm,” Dean says, taking his hands off of Castiel completely. Cas’ body aches for his touch again, but he’s also sure he’s going to combust if Dean does touch him again. “That’s not what your body language says, sweetheart.”

There’s a split second in which Dean grins, and then turns around and starts doing his work—studiously, as if he hadn’t just been screwing with Castiel’s head just two seconds ago.

This is going to be a damn long year.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, here's where Cas' kind of "asshole" personality comes it. Please take into account that his kind of thinking is temporary for the most part, and it's slightly exaggerated, while his parents' thinking is kind of verging on extremist, meaning it's pretty exaggerated and definitely not made to represent Catholicism as a whole. We get to meet them officially in the next chapter! Hurray!  
> Also—I do live in America, and our Independence Day is coming up this weekend. I'm going to be at no less than _three_ barbecues over the next three days, and that's definitely going to take away from my writing time.  
>  However, I've also decided that this is my work for the summer session of NaNoWriMo, and I have a goal of 50,000 words for this story to be completed by the end of the month. I'm thinking that there's going to be a lot of updates for this story to come. :) I already have 14,000 words for this story, so that's good.

As it turns out, Castiel has two more classes with Dean Winchester before the end of the school day, and in each class he is just as annoying and obnoxious as the class before.

Castiel leaves class exhausted and prays—literally—for the end of the school year to come quickly. He’s not sure how much more of Dean Winchester he can handle, if this pattern is to repeat every day.

At least he can understand the obsession with Dean, now. It is already established that he’s a dangerous person to handle—on top of that, he’s beautiful and flirtatious.

Castiel is absolutely charmed by him, and he hates it.

 

Cas tells Anna about what happened in his science class, and then the two classes after that when Dean wouldn’t stop flirting with him. Dean had toned it down a little from his original strategy, and he didn’t touch Cas at all, but it was obvious that he was still flirting with him, and it was driving Castiel crazy.

He didn’t relent, either. He sat as close to Cas’ seat as possible; every class Cas had with Dean, he was basically right next to him. It annoyed the hell out of him, how Dean was doing that.

“He’s gay?” Anna asks, sounding surprised, and maybe a little bit like she doesn’t want to believe him.

“Bisexual,” Castiel corrects, rolling his eyes. “He made that very clear to me.” Dean only told him about seventeen times. “Also, that’s not the point. The point is—why me?”

Anna shrugs. “Beats me, little brother. Just leave it—in a few days, he’ll forget about it and move on to the next person.”

Castiel narrows his eyes at Anna. “You are _four minutes_ older than me,” he says.

“Which makes you littler than me,” Anna says, grinning. “Now, let’s go. We have some snow to trudge through.”

The snow isn’t as bad as it was that morning, and Castiel is grateful for that. Even though they don’t really have too far to walk, his nose and face are numb with cold by the time they stumble inside their home.

+++

The next day, Castiel is filled with excitement as much as he’s filled with dread to see Dean. He’s not sure if he can handle more of Dean’s shameless flirting after yesterday, but he still aches for it, for some reason… He chides himself when he starts to think that perhaps he likes Dean’s flirtations solely because he is being given attention. Someone is finally noticing him after the entire school has been ignoring him for years.

He needs to wean himself from that. Seeking someone’s attention like that is selfish and deceitful, in his book. He can’t lie to Dean like that, even if he doesn’t particularly _like_ Dean to begin with.

Science class runs as smoothly as it possibly could with Dean’s incessant flirting. It’s like he can turn anything into an innuendo, which is as impressive as it is annoying. He continues to not touch Castiel like yesterday, and Cas is as relieved as he is frustrated.

But it’s in Theology that the trouble really starts.

Theology is taught by Sister Josie Sands, a sweet woman with strikingly red hair. They’re discussing the idea of heaven, and what it takes to get there.

“Some people believe that it takes only the belief in God to go to Heaven,” Sister Sands tells the class. “I’m sure there are people like that in this class. Others believe it’s a little more complicated than that. Thoughts?”

Castiel likes this class because there are interesting discussions. There are differences in opinions, and there have been fights more than once. It’s definitely the most interesting class, and it’s one that Castiel excels in.

When called on to offer his opinion on the matter of Heaven, Castiel just shrugs. “Everything is explained in the Bible, isn’t it?” Castiel asks. “‘For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that _whoever_ _believes_ in Him would not perish, but have eternal life.’ Whoever _believes_.”

Dean, who’s sitting in front of him, turns around to look at Castiel. He looks, above anything, disgusted. It’s a new look on him, a large contrast to his perpetual crooked smile and inviting, flirtatious eyes. Castiel decides he likes the change.

“You think that _just_ believing is enough to send you to Heaven?” Dean asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Isn’t it?” Castiel says, almost amused.

Dean barks a humorless laugh. “No, it isn’t. You can’t just believe in God and then be a jerk to everyone, and expect that to be enough. You can’t break all the rules and expect an award for it.”

“Mr. Winchester, do you have something you’d like to share with the class?” Sister Sands asks.

Dean turns to the front. “I was just telling my friend Cas here that I don’t really agree with him.”

“You don’t thinking that believing is enough to get one into Heaven?”

“Nope,” he replies.

“Explain.”

“Well,” Dean starts. “First off, what if someone didn’t believe in God but they’re still a good person? What if they’re Buddhist or—or whatever? Would they automatically go to Hell even if they did everything right?”

Sister Sands is quiet, but Dean makes up for it by becoming louder and more passionate as he continues his rebuttal.

“Also, the opposite—what if someone killed another person? What if they broke every single rule? What if they committed adultery or didn’t help someone in need or whatever, but were a devout person? Would they just get a free pass because, _hey, at least they believed_? Why should we bar the good people, even if they’re non-believers, from going to Heaven?” Dean demands.

Castiel scoffs, rolling his eyes.

It makes no sense to him. Castiel was sure that God was a merciful being that forgave those who believed—that’s what Purgatory was for, wasn’t it? The cleansing before arriving in Heaven, the unearthly fire that washed away the sins of those truly sorry for them.

Dean whirls on him. “See, that attitude you have—that fucking holier-than-thou thing you’ve got going? That’s exactly what’s wrong with the world you have, and that’s what’s gonna come back and bite you in the ass, Novak.”

Before Castiel can smack the hell out of Dean, Sister Sands cuts in.

“Mr. Winchester, I will not have that kind of language in my classroom,” Sister Sands scolds. “The next time I hear you use that language, you’re going to make a trip to the dean’s office. Secondly, if I hear you treat a student like that again, you’re going to have _me_ to deal with.”

“Sorry, Sister,” Dean says. He hardly sounds apologetic. “My mistake.”

Sister Sands asks for people to raise their hands and decide who they agree with more on the subject—Dean or Castiel.

They’re both quiet for the rest of the period.

+++

The rest of the week afterwards is relatively quiet. Dean doesn’t even try to flirt or speak with Castiel, which is a much nicer experience than the two previous days.

It makes science class a little difficult when Dean won’t speak to him, but they work surprisingly well together, keeping out of each other’s way with few attempts at communication. Having Dean as a lab partner isn’t so bad, but his demeanor is quiet and cold, and it drains Castiel just by being near him.

+++

The weekend arrives like a blessing. Castiel barely feels like he’s had time to enjoy it when Sunday morning rolls around. When his alarm clock goes off, he rolls over in bed and grabs at his bedside table until he finds his glasses, which he slips on, and then he searches the table with his eyes barely open until he hits the “off” button on his alarm. He forces himself out of bed only so he can get to church on time.

Even as he groggily gets dressed, he reminds himself that _at least it’s not as bad when you were still altar serving, and you had to be up at the buttcrack of dawn to get ready_. It does little to make him feel better.

The town they live in is relatively small, so they brave the weather and walk to church, bundled in scarves and multiple coats. They arrive early enough to get seats together in a pew. The church is relatively small and they’ve arrived for the 11:00 mass—probably the most popular time for everyone to come worship. An old man has pulled out an old coat rack and has started a mediocre coat check, which the churchgoers are quite grateful for.

The church slowly fills up until Castiel feels nearly suffocated by the sheer amount of people. But he just listens as Father Joshua goes through the rituals and ceremonies. Father Joshua’s been doing this for so long that mass usually ends _early_ , despite all odds.

When he’s in line to receive Communion that he feels a tap on his shoulder. He glances around and, to his horror, meets the green eyes of Dean Winchester.

“Hey,” Dean grins.

“What are you—?” he starts to whisper furiously.

“Oh, hey, you’re next,” Dean says, pointing forward to see that Castiel is indeed holding up the line. He bows quickly and steps forward, holding his hands out to receive the Sacrament, his cheeks burning in embarrassment.

“The Body of Christ,” the server murmurs.

“Amen,” Castiel says, and repeats the process with the woman serving the wine.

The service ends shortly thereafter, after Father Joshua and his procession have gone down the middle aisle and have made their way to the church atrium.

Castiel takes longer than usual to leave the church. He knows that it’s inevitable that Dean find him before he is able to leave and avoid the awkwardness. He starts to leave anyway, using his mother and Anna as a kind of buffer—perhaps Dean won’t want to talk to him if he’s got his family around him. But, considering Dean’s brash nature, it doesn’t deter him one bit from laying a hand on Cas’ shoulder and turning him around.

Castiel startles when he feels Dean’s hand on his shoulder, and Anna turns to see what the matter is. Her eyes widen, and she turns around, looking ready to tell Dean off, but Castiel gives her a pointed look that says _leave it alone, I’ll handle it._ She looks wary, but she turns and leaves with their mother. He hopes she’ll have the sense to cover for him.

He had hoped Castiel’s stalling would have bored Dean to the point that he would have left the church without speaking, but apparently not—apparently he’ll just do anything to annoy him.

“Fancy seeing you here,” Dean grins, when he hears the door close after the last straggler. They’re standing near the back of the church, at the very end of the center aisle. The church is very poorly lit, most of the light is provided by the stained-glass windows. The section closest to them depicts a crown encircling a cross on a background of blue.

“What are you doing here?” Castiel asks coldly, shrugging Dean’s hand off his shoulder.

Dean shrugs, looking around the church. “Not really my scene, is it?”

“Not really,” he deadpans coldly. A thought strikes him, and he can’t help asking, “Do you even believe?”

“Nah,” Dean says, putting his hands in his pocket. “The whole ‘Almighty God’ thing doesn’t really ring true to me.”

Castiel’s fists clench. Why would he be here if he doesn’t believe? For some reason, it feels like a personal attack to him, like an unwelcome guest in his home. He wants nothing more than for Dean to leave this place and never come back.

The boy laughs at Castiel’s reaction, an infuriatingly musical sound. “You _really_ don’t like me, do you?”

Castiel purses his lips together. “I never said that.”

“Didn’t have to,” Dean says, matter-of-factly. “I’m really good at reading people, babe. And you’re giving me all the signs of a pretty severe ‘I hate you because you’re right’, in-denial, somewhat-deprived closet case.” He smirks. “I could fix that for you, you know… the deprivation you’re feeling.” He’s approaching Castiel slowly, forcing Castiel to take a shaky step backwards, only to hit the wall behind him.

He clenches his jaw. “First of all, I am not a—a damn closet case. Secondly, why do you keep flirting with me if you hate me? I thought it was very clear that we have… irreparable differences.” Unless Dean’s already forgotten about that wonderful day in theology class, where he told Castiel that he was a pompous jerk, and Castiel nearly strangled him. He assumed that encounter would difficult to forget, but perhaps Dean is capable of a stupidity far beyond Castiel’s comprehension.

Dean chuckles a bit, stepping closer. “Because you don’t want me to stop. And…” He gives Castiel a shameless once over, and finishes, “You’re pretty hot.”

It’s inelegant, the things he says, the way he says them. It makes Castiel feel warm all over and disgusted all at once, and he can’t decide which feeling is stronger. He wishes he were more disgusted. Perhaps it would give him the strength to push Dean away from him now.

They’re pretty close already, but Dean steps _even_ _closer_ until they’re just inches apart. He lifts both his hands, and Castiel flinches automatically, but Dean doesn’t retract his movements, just keeps still until he looks back at the blond, realizing Dean won’t hurt him.

He reaches forward, and slips Castiel’s thick, black square-framed glasses off his nose, and then stares at him. A smirk slowly appears on Dean’s face.

“Yeah,” he says, like he just proved himself right. “Fucking gorgeous.”

They’re alone in the church. But anyone could walk in now. Anyone could walk in right now and see—see how Dean’s eyes are flicking to Castiel’s lips and back to his eyes, perhaps in question. Seeking permission.

Anyone could walk in right now, and see them, and assume things.

It’s that thought that snaps Castiel out of his trance and makes him grab his glasses from Dean’s hands, smudging the glass in the process. He replaces them back on his nose, glaring at Dean the entire time. Then he turns around and starts to leave without a word.

“So, I’ll see you around?” Dean calls after him as he heads towards the large, wood-carved double doors.

Castiel whirls around. “Don’t even think about it, Dean Winchester. Stay away from me.”

He wants so desperately to mean it.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is very plot-driven and not very Dean-driven, just as a warning. That comes in the next chapter, which, coincidentally, I posted along with this one. ;) This chapter was a bit shorter than the rest, so I thought, hey, why not, since I already had them both finished.
> 
> Also: [My main tumblr blog](http://alwaysbarnes.tumblr.com/).  
> [My SPN sideblog](http://calmlycas.tumblr.com/).

It comes as a shock to both Anna and Castiel when they get home one Tuesday afternoon and find their older brother Gabriel lounging on the couch in the living room.

“Gabe?” Anna says, confused. “What are you doing here?”

Their older brother looks away from the book he’s reading and grins.

“Cas, Anna!” he says excitedly, and then bounds up to them and drags them into an enthusiastic hug. Castiel and Anna return it readily. Smiling and laughing a little. Gabriel’s happiness was always contagious—which is Castiel’s favorite thing about his older brother.

“What are you doing here?” Castiel repeats. “I thought break already ended.”

Referring to Gabe’s winter break, which should have ended around Martin Luther King, Jr. Day. Gabriel had left for college nearly two years ago—he had been eager to get away from home and start a life for himself, which is understandable.

Castiel moves to the kitchen to get something to drink. He grabs a bottle of water from the fridge and hands one to Gabriel when he makes a childlike grabby-motion for one. Castiel rolls his eyes.

“You might want to sit down for this,” Gabriel says, a mischievous glint in his eye. That look always means trouble, so the three move back to the living room. Castiel takes Gabe’s advice and sits on the loveseat nearest to the couch, Anna sitting next to him.

“So, what are you doing here?”

Gabriel smiles, taking a sip of his drink before putting it back down on the table. “Dropped out,” he says.

Castiel nearly chokes on his drink, while Anna audibly gasps.

Even though their family definitely had enough money to send him wherever, Gabe had gotten into a prestigious college for musicians on a full scholarship after he auditioned his skills playing the trumpet. Gabriel is very talented, and Castiel always felt a little pride in the fact that Gabe was good enough to get accepted for a full ride.

Now Castiel is confused—why would he give that up? He knows Gabriel loves his instrument, and their family had had enough money put away in a trust fund that Gabe had been able to live comfortably in an apartment, rather than a school dorm. It seems strange that he would give that up, especially considering that Gabriel had probably let loose after his strict upbringing, one that Gabe had defied at every turn.

“ _What_?” Anna exclaims. “Gabriel, why?”

Their brother shrugs. “College, not really my thing.” He wrinkles his nose. “Which is surprisingly, actually. I thought I was going to love it, being away from home, drinking my ass off—but, I don’t know. Everyone there was either too serious, or not enough. I guess I just wasn’t serious enough.”

Castiel stares at him, shaking his head. “Mom’s going to kill you, you know that, right?”

Gabe smiles. “What’s she going to do, ground me?”

“She might cut you off,” Anna says. “Gabe, this is serious. You wanted to do that for the rest of your life. Do you even have a plan?”

He just leans back in his chair, smiling thoughtfully. “Nope. And it’s extremely liberating, to be honest. I could choose anything to do.”

Anna looks like she’s ready to strangle him. “Gabe, this isn’t funny. This is your life—”

“Anna,” Castiel says, because he thinks he gets it. This is another path laid out for Gabriel by their parents, one that Gabriel doesn’t want because it’s tainted by their touch. He’s defying them again. “Let Gabriel choose for himself. Whatever comes, it is Gabriel that chose this path. I think that’s what he wants for himself.”

Gabriel laughs and gets up, walking over to Cas to muss up his hair. “Good job, little brother!” he praises. “You got that one right, so points to you.”

Anna looks up at Gabe, worry in her voice. “I don’t really approve of that, Gabriel, but I just want you to—ugh, never mind. Just make a plan for yourself soon, okay? I don’t want you to get caught up in trouble because—”

Gabriel waves her off like it’s no big deal. “You worry too much, little sister. I already have an apartment and job lined up for me. I’ll be _fine_.”

She settles back into the couch, looking uncomfortable. “Don’t tell mom just yet,” she says. “She’ll be murderous.”

Gabriel laughs. “Part of me feels like she already knows. She seems to have a sixth sense when it comes to me fucking things up.”

That pulls a little laugh out of the both of them, and the tension is broken. They lapse into conversation, and Castiel is reminded about how close the three of them used to be before Gabriel left for college. Maybe it’s better that Gabe is here instead of on the other side of the country in some music school—Castiel has missed him, and Gabriel has always thought family was important, perhaps he will be happier closer to home.

Even though he knows he hates it, Castiel can’t help but compare Gabriel and their oldest brother, Michael sometimes. Where Gabriel is goofy and rebellious, Michael is disciplined to a point that it’s almost as if he’s military. Michael also believes in the importance of family, but in a way like “blood is thicker than water.” Gabriel instead is of the idea that some family members are the people that you love but you don’t like, but they’d still do anything for you.

He sighs internally. He loves Gabriel, he just worries about him so much—a trait he probably picked up from his sister. He worries about Gabe and his future, and he worries that he’ll end up regretting his actions.

Instead of worrying about it now, though, he throws himself back into the conversation, until they know that their mother is going to be home soon, and Gabriel needs to get on his way before their mother walks in on them and finds out the truth.

Castiel hates hiding things from his mother, but he knows that this will just be better for her state of mind—if she knows that Gabriel is already settled down in a home and with a good job, she’ll be more likely to accept it than she would in a situation with a bunch of  “maybes” or “ifs.”

He rubs his forehead. It’s just another damn thing on his mind.

\+ + +

A week after Gabriel’s appearance, Castiel is lounging around the house when he hears the mail slot open and close. He gets up from his spot on the couch and goes to retrieve the letters, rifling through them absently.

Noticing a letter from his father, he stops, eyebrows pulling together in confusion. He hasn’t really heard from his father in a while, really—he was told, along with Anna, that their father would be moving to India for a few months to sort out a new branch of the company he works for—hire workers, train managers, etc., as is the struggle of outsourcing.

The envelope is stamped many times, and it is indeed from India. He opens it, even though he probably shouldn’t, and looks at its contents, hoping for a note of some sort from his father.

It’s a check.

To be honest, he’s a little disappointed that it’s not an actual letter addressed to his family, but just sets the check back inside the envelope and reseals it as best as he can. He leaves it on the counter for his mother with the rest of the mail. She’ll probably be able to make sense of it.

\+ + +

A few days after Castiel finds the check, Gabriel comes over again. He knows that Gabe is going to reveal the news to their mother, and all three of them are anxious to hear her reaction.

She reacts badly, of course—the twins are in Castiel’s room when they begin to hear raised voices downstairs. They share a look: Anna’s worried, Castiel’s expectant.

The voices only get louder. They can’t discern exactly what they’re saying, but they have a pretty good idea.

Castiel goes and opens his door a crack anyway, listening to the fight downstairs. He feels bad for intruding, but he’s curious, and he wants to know the fate of his brother.

Anna comes over and listens in as well.

It’s a nasty fight—one of their worst. When Gabe was in high school, fights like this would happen practically every two or three days. Their saving grace had been when Gabriel had gotten into college, and now that truce has shattered completely.

Forty minutes later, the screaming dies down, and they hear the door slam. Castiel quickly closes the door, and the two of them scramble back to their previous spots, waiting for when their mother inevitably comes upstairs to speak with them.

The knock comes only a few minutes later. Castiel calls for her to come in, and she enters slowly and quietly.

Naomi’s demeanor is absolutely deadly. Castiel knows that she’s not going to want any sort of sugar-coated answer, so they wait for her question.

When it finally comes, her voice is absolutely rigid: “Did you know about Gabriel?”

Castiel gulps. “He told us about a week ago that he dropped out.”

“And you didn’t tell me,” she deadpans.

Anna and Castiel both wince. “Mom,” Anna says. “We didn’t want you to be so angry with Gabriel. We knew you’d react like this when he told you, so we were waiting until he was settled in wherever he lives to tell you.”

Their mother considers this, and then nods with a set jaw. “I don’t want you speaking to Gabriel for the time being. Let him reflect on his actions. And when he’s had enough, he can come to me.”

Anna and Castiel both start to protest at once.

“No, enough!” she snaps. “I mean it. I hear you talking to your brother, I will ground you for a month. Understood?”

Jaw set, Castiel nods and answers for them both. “Understood.”


	4. Chapter 4

School continues on. The end of January blends into beginning of February, and it strikes Castiel that he’s already a month into the new year. How time flies.

Dean doesn’t flirt with him as heavily anymore—perhaps he’s given up on Castiel, or perhaps he’s just found some new chase to worry about. Castiel craves the attention, though, and he almost always experiences that little feeling of elation when Dean throws him a secret, provocative smile.

He shouldn’t be condoning this, he knows. If he had more self-respect, he would push harder for Dean to leave him be. But he wants this more than he wants to protect himself from it, apparently, and that makes him extremely uncomfortable. He’s been taught his entire life to refrain from indulging in pleasure like this. He should cut ties. Forget about the whole thing, and then ask for forgiveness, because he truly is in the wrong: he has been greedy for Dean’s attention—attention that has been inherently sexual.

He doesn’t know what’s wrong with him. He hates that he gave the control of his life to the first person that came by and gave him attention, and then that attention was just as easily whisked away from him.

\+ + +

When Castiel and Anna get out of school, Castiel is reluctant to go home. After his mother’s fight with Gabriel, Castiel has felt uneasy around her. On their way home, Castiel takes a detour and starts walking around the school towards the old church instead of towards their house.

“Where are you going?” Anna asks, confused, stopping in her tracks.

“C’mon,” Castiel says. “Let’s go this way.”

“We need to go home,” she protests. But she follows him anyway.

Castiel leads them into the grotto. The space is wide open, with an imitation of Michelangelo’s _Pieta_ under a cavernous roof. A stone bench is set in front of that. Three trees protect them from onlookers from the street, giving them a false sense of privacy. There is a gravel path leading towards the grotto, but the rest of the area is covered in grass. The whole thing is tranquil and quiet. This is a place for reflection and silence, and Castiel feels guilty for coming here to escape his problems rather than under better circumstances—but he doesn’t know where else to go.

He realizes just how few friends he actually has. He can’t go to their houses, can’t escape his mother that way. He can’t stay at school. Can’t go anywhere but here.

“What are you doing?” Anna asks, confused. Her voice is lowered, however, perhaps in respect for their surroundings. “I thought we were going home.”

“I don’t want to go home,” Castiel admits.

Anna cocks her head to the side. “Why?”

He sits down on the stone bench, which is cold from the chilly February air. “Ever since the thing with Gabriel, I just—I don’t know,” he sighs. “Mom just cut off ties with him like that. What would stop her from doing that to us?”

She nods and sits next to him. “I know. I was thinking the same thing, honestly. I feel a lot better knowing we’re on the same page.” She sighs. “I kind of want to talk to her, but I don’t want her to get angry at me.”

Castiel nods in agreement and fiddles with his hands. “I want to talk to him, but…” Shaking his head, he looks up at their surroundings. The grotto is empty and still. The snow has mostly melted but the air still has a biting chill to it that demands a jacket.

They hear voices behind them, and both turn to see two men, talking. It seems to be a bit of an argument. Castiel thinks he recognizes them—Samandriel, from his morning class, and Azazel. But Cas and Anna both seem to think it’s none of their business, and avert their eyes.

“I wish I didn’t doubt her, but I do. I think she made the wrong decision,” Anna says. “I mean, that’s her _son_. I don’t understand why she’s like this.”

Castiel shrugs. “Do you think there’s something she’s not telling us?”

Anna shakes her head. “Don’t you think we’d know if there was?”

“I don’t know,” Castiel says. “You’d think she’d have nothing to hide.”

“Maybe she’s—”

Anna is interrupted by the sound of shouting. They both turn to see that the two boys—Samandriel and Azazel, a taller, skinnier man with blond hair—have escalated their argument. They’re getting up into each other’s face, shouting loudly.

“Should we—?” Castiel asks nervously, abandoning all thoughts of his mother.

“No,” Anna says. “Just leave it.”

Then Azazel pushes Samandriel back, once, twice, until he’s fallen over. Castiel starts to get up, ignoring his sister’s advice, but Anna lays a hand on his arm and pulls him back down.

“Don’t,” she hisses. “He’ll just attack you, too. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

To their surprise, another man jogs over to the pair fighting, putting himself between Samandriel and Azazel—and Castiel recognizes him, too. It’s Dean.

Castiel immediately feels an instinct to protect Dean spark within him. He’s itching to stand up and get between Dean and his alleged attacker—never mind that Azazel is creepy as all get out and twice his size. He needs to protect Dean, makes sure he doesn’t get hurt.

Dean seems to be trying to talk to Azazel, stepping between him and Samandriel, shielding him. Dean’s holding his hands up in perhaps what could be surrender, but is probably used to placate Azazel. But he doesn’t calm down, only starts advancing on Dean.

Dean shoots a look to Samandriel, still lying on the ground. Samandriel takes that as his cue to get up and start running fast. Dean stops Azazel before he can run after Samandriel, putting two hands on his shoulders to keep him back. The sudden physical contact seems to be the breaking point, and he grabs Dean’s shirt and _decks_ him.

Before Castiel realizes what he’s doing, he’s running across the lawn to Dean.

Anna is yelling his name, but he doesn’t hear it as he steps between Dean and Azazel, speaking frantically—he doesn’t know what he’s saying, something along the lines of _no don’t touch him leave him alone let him go_ —

—until a fist collides with his own nose—once, twice—hard enough that he drops to the ground. There’s a knee to his stomach, and then he passes out.

It’s only a few minutes later that he comes to, he thinks.

There’s a voice floating in and out of focus—when he recognizes it as Dean’s voice, though, he makes an effort to listen harder.

“Cas? Cas. Oh my God. Oh my fucking God.” He feels Dean’s hands on his face, warm and callused, tapping lightly on his cheek, trying to wake him up without hurting him. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry. Cas. Wake up, _please_.”

Castiel’s head lolls to the side, and he feels Dean take his hands off his face immediately. He misses the touch.

“Cas?” he asks again, hope and relief in his voice. Or maybe Cas is just imagining that, too wistful.

“Don’t—” Castiel starts, and then coughs. He can taste the blood running down the back of his throat; he must have a bloody nose. “Don’t take the Lord’s name in vain,” he finishes.

Dean is silent for a moment. When Castiel opens his eyes, he sees Dean staring at him in shock. He realizes he’s beneath one of the trees in the grotto, lying in the grass that surrounds the place. Light filters in through the branches on the tree. The ground is hard against his back and cold like the air, but he guesses it’s better than the concrete.

“Are you _fucking_ _kidding me_?!” Dean says finally, sounding annoyed and relieved in equal measures. “You get knocked upside that thick fucking skull of yours and that’s all you have to say? _Don’t take the Lord’s name in vain_?”

Castiel doesn’t see how this is a bad thing. He feels the blood run from his nose and down his face. He reaches a hand up to stop it from getting on his shirt, but there’s already a considerable amount there anyway.

“Do you—?” he starts to ask, but then Dean hands him a Kleenex from his pocket before he can finish. “Thanks.”

He bleeds through the Kleenex within a few minutes, and then asks Dean for another.

“That’s so much blood. Fuck, Cas,” Dean says nervously. He bends down to dab at the blood from Cas’ nose. “Do you think you’ve got a broken nose? Jesus Christ.”

“Don’t take the Lord’s name in vain,” he repeats.

“Shut up,” Dean interrupts. He hands him a clean tissue, which Castiel takes gratefully, starting to dab at his own nose.

Dean sits next to Castiel with a large sigh.

Castiel stares up at his face, studying him. “You’re hurt, too,” he says. “You need help.”

“I’m fine,” Dean says, smiling a little, and it’s different kind of smile that he’s always seen on Dean Winchester. It’s genuine, friendly and sweet. “I’ve taken worse beatings.”

Castiel feels a flash of sadness and sympathy at the admittance. He scrunches his eyebrows together. “Let me help you. Please.”

“I sent your sister to go get something to help,” Dean says. “She should be back soon.

Castiel nods, and tilts his head back, pinching the bridge of his nose. He thinks his bloody nose is starting to stop, but it’s sure taking a long damn time.

“Hey,” Dean says quietly, just enough to get Cas’ attention. Castiel looks at him, unwavering. “Thanks.”

Castiel smiles a little. “I don’t really see how I helped, but you’re welcome.”

Anna returns in a few minutes with an ice pack and a small first aid kit wrapped in plastic. She’s panting and her face is red like her hair.

“Where’d you go?” Dean asks her, taking the ice pack.

She sits on the ground with a large huff of air. “To the damn drugstore,” she says, still trying to catch her breath. “I think I ran into about twenty people on my way there and back.”

Dean moves his hand to the back of Cas’ head, steadying it as he applies the ice pack to Cas’ cheekbone. Cas hisses and recoils, trying to get away.

“Hold still,” Dean commands. “Fucking Christ, he got you pretty bad, didn’t he?”

“Dean, don’t—”

“If you tell me to not take the Lord’s name in vain one more time, I’m going to punch you, too.” His voice is tired and tight, but his eyes are glinting with humor. He keeps the pack on his face for a few more seconds before he instructs Cas to hold it while he starts attending to the cuts and scrapes on his face.

He dabs at Cas’ face with cotton balls soaked in alcohol. “Oh, here,” he says, and hands Castiel his glasses—they must have fallen off when he hit the ground.

“Mom’s gonna kill me,” Cas whispers, taking the frames and dusting them off with the front of his shirt, and replacing them on his nose.

Anna snorts. “I’ll try my best to cover you, little brother… but my power is extremely limited.”

Castiel sighs. “God, I didn’t want to go home before, but…”

Dean’s eyes flick up to meet his. “Trouble at home?”

Cas scoffs. “Like you wouldn’t believe.”

Dean looks as surprised at the answer as Castiel feels that he gave it. Usually he’d tell Dean it’s none of his business, asking him why he would care… but it just slipped out. After all, Castiel just jumped between him and his attacker and got beaten for his troubles. It’s not like this hasn’t changed everything. Everything’s different now. Perhaps they have a new understanding of each other.

Anna says that she’s going to start heading home, perhaps to break the news to their mother so she won’t kill Castiel when he finally gets there. Castiel thinks that that’s a wonderful idea. She starts walking towards home, and Dean continues to clean the cuts on Cas’ face until he deems his job done.

Dean shuffles until he’s sitting next to Castiel instead of in front of him.

“So, don’t want to go home, huh?”

Cas nods. “Not at all.”

Dean just nods. “Been there before.” Smirking like he has an idea, he turns to face Castiel. “Have you even ever been in trouble before?”

Castiel thinks on it, replaying instances in his head when his mother’s gotten mad at him. Usually it was for minor things—like ignoring or forgetting his chores, or doing badly on a test. Usually, he always fixed his mistake. He’s never gotten in trouble at school before; he’s always been on time and never skipped a day in his life.

“I don’t… I don’t know,” he says lamely.

Dean laughs, a sound as sweet as bells ringing. “If you can’t even remember if you have or haven’t, you probably haven’t. Not really, at least. She’ll go easy on you this time, but next time—” He mimes his throat being sliced by dragging a finger across his Adam’s apple. They lapse into silence after Dean’s gesture, worry building in Cas’ stomach.

He’s afraid that his mother’s going to react like she did with Gabriel. He hopes Anna explains the situation well. He hopes that he will be able to argue his point well, and that his reasons for jumping into the fight seem noble and smart to her—

Then he realizes that he only jumped into the fight to protect Dean, not because he knew what they were fight over at the time.

Panic grips him. What if this wasn’t a good cause? What if he was protecting the bad guy, even though he knows that Azazel is notorious for his bad temper and inclination towards pyromaniacy?

“What were you guys even fighting over?” Castiel asks finally. His stomach churns as he waits for Dean’s answer.

The boy inhales sharply at the question—Castiel is afraid that perhaps he doesn’t want to answer, but then he says, “Samandriel has some… opinions that clash with Azazel’s, and the Church’s in general. Azazel was kind of… taking judgment into his own hand.”

“Oh,” Castiel says. “I didn’t… that’s scary that Azazel would even think to do that. The Bible says… yeah.”

They sit for a while until Castiel’s sure Anna’s gotten home by now. He still doesn’t want to go home—now more than ever.

Dean stands and offers Castiel a hand to help him up.

“No, I’m fine,” he declines. “I think standing would be… a little too optimistic.”

Dean smirks. “I could carry you.”

Castiel glares at him, and then takes his hand and stands up. He sways a little on his feet, but Dean grabs his shoulders to steady him. Dean studies him for a few seconds, and Castiel is suddenly very aware of their proximity and the nature of these events.

Castiel jumped in front of an attacker to stop him from hurting Dean. Castiel _begged_ Azazel to not hurt him, to not touch him. Those are facts he can’t deny. Dean knows this.

“I’m sorry, Cas,” Dean says. “I didn’t—I should have done something. Azazel just…” He sighs. “It was really shitty of me to let him beat on you like that.”

“It’s okay,” Castiel says. “You got him to leave, didn’t you? That’s all that matters.”

“Actually, your sister did that,” he says, smiling. “She can really throw a punch. I think she was about ready to murder me and Azazel…”

Castiel laughs. “I didn’t even know she had it in her.”

Dean smiles, but he still looks guilty. But suddenly his expression changes into something more familiar, and it makes Cas’ stomach turn.

“If you want… you could come back to my place and I can make it up to you.” He smirks his usual crooked smile, and suddenly, Castiel feels like he’s been… _betrayed_ , or something like that.

“Are you kidding me?” he asks angrily. “What the _hell_ , Dean?”

This is just another attempt at flirting with Castiel. He can’t believe that he fell for it. The worst part is that he really believed that Dean was trying to be civil—hell, even _friends_. But no, this is just another—albeit long-winded—attempt at getting into Castiel’s pants, and Castiel _fell for it_. He’s so ashamed.

He wants to grab his shoulders and shake himself into sanity. Before, he craved Dean’s attention in that way. Now, he’s upset and betrayed over it. He doesn’t make any sense, not even to himself.

Why does he even feel betrayed, anyway? To be betrayed would imply that there was some form of trust that Dean would have had to break.

… Did he _trust_ Dean?

“What?” Dean asks, as if he’s completely oblivious, which he’s _not_. “What’d I do?”

Castiel groans in frustration. “Just… just forget it. Forget everything. Forget I said anything, forget I _did_ anything.”

He turns around and starts stalking in the direction of home, but the ground somehow rises up to meet him, and he’s on his hands and knees on the ground before he even realizes it, with Dean’s hands on his shoulders, trying to help.

Castiel shrugs him off. “Don’t _touch_ me,” he snaps.

But Dean just helps him up, maneuvering Cas’ arm over his shoulder and wrapping an arm around Cas’ middle.

“What are you doing?” Castiel asks. He tries to pull away, but Dean holds on tight.

“I’m going to drive you home,” Dean mumbles. “You’ll kill yourself trying to walk home like this.”

“I’m fine,” Castiel protests. He makes another weak attempt to push Dean off of him, to no avail.

“No, you’re not.” Dean’s voice is oddly subdued now, and he doesn’t even look at Castiel as he speaks. “You can’t even walk. The least I can do is give you a ride home.”

Castiel wants to decline his help, but he can’t deny that Dean’s right—he can’t even walk. His mind is blurry mess right now. Perhaps he needs more help than he’s willing to admit.

It’s a short walk to Dean’s car, and they begin the drive home. Cas gives Dean directions and they arrive home in no time. Dean doesn’t talk to him the entire ride, but offers to help Cas to the door. He declines again, and stumbles to the door himself. He doesn’t even fall once.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The confession scene in this chapter is based off of research as well as confession as I remember it. I know there are differences in how people will go about confession (e.g., saying "bless me, Father" instead of "forgive me, Father), and I'm sure it's not perfect. Again, it's mostly based off of what I remember.  
> If you want more information about the ritual of confession and adoration and the like—or if you're confused about what's happening—you can talk to me. There are major disconnects between what actually happens and how it's portrayed in the media or in other fanfics you've probably read (I mean, who hasn't read some blasphemous fic of two people fucking in a confessional? With this fandom, it's usually a given), and I have a feeling those things are written by people who either don't understand what they're writing, or have chosen not to portray it correctly in the name of shameless sex.

He doesn’t understand Dean Winchester anymore.

Well, he _never_ understood Dean Winchester before, but now it’s like any thoughts that had gathered to come to make up Dean have scattered again in confusion.

Dean is flirtatious, presumptuous, hedonistic… and _kind_? Protective?

Those attributes just don’t add together correctly in Castiel’s mind. To him, he’s only ever seen Dean in a way that those traits don’t clash. It’s like he’s two different people entirely in the same skin.

But he was wrong about Dean, even if only a little wrong. He presumed things that were not true about him, and treated him according to a warped idea of him. Well, not totally warped, considering what Dean said to him after the fight, but still a little wrong.

And, even worse, Castiel isn’t sure how to act around him anymore. He doesn’t feel right in Dean’s presence anymore and doesn’t know his role. Before, it was obvious that he would deny Dean’s advances because it was what was expected of him. But now that he knows that Dean’s mind isn’t just one track, it’s difficult to believe that the cocky, self-satisfied attitude that he puts forth is anything but a facade. A mask that he wears—perhaps the sweet, protective version of Dean that he saw was the result of a crack in the wall. A small chink in his armor.

Or, perhaps, the goodness he saw in Dean was a front, and his usual arrogant, flirtatious attitude is his true self.

_Which is which?_

He feels plagued with guilt and bad will. Castiel realizes that he hasn’t had the best past month, what with Dean joining him at school and the news of Gabriel. He feels dirty and wrong, and he wants to fix this within himself. He should clear his head before he figures out a solution to this problem.

On a Saturday afternoon, Castiel braves the cold and walks to church. He spends nearly an hour in Eucharistic Adoration. There are two other parishioners in the church with him, kneeling or sitting face-forward, admiring the Eucharist. People come and go, spending a while in reflection of theirselves before going to the back of the church and entering the confessional to begin confession.

When he finally feels like he has thought of all the things he has to say, he stands up and makes his way to the back of the church and enters the confessional.

He has always done confession face-to-face with the priest. He feels that doing it behind the curtain or through a screen is shameful; people should not have to feel ashamed of their sins if they are just going to be forgiven for them. He has nothing to hide, anyway.

“Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned,” Castiel says. “It has been three months since my last confession.”

Castiel waits as Father Joshua starts talking—prayers and blessings of sorts that he listens to intently. Then Castiel begins telling his sins—the kind of sins that he tells every time he comes here; how he thought meanly of Bela Talbot and her disciples at school, how he sometimes does not honor his mother like he should or how he hasn’t kept in contact with his father while he’s been away. All these things he already strives to fix, and he believes that he’s getting better at it, but, sadly, he isn’t perfect.

Father Joshua waits once Castiel hesitates for a moment. “Anything else?” the man asks, giving Cas a kind smile.

This town is small enough that everyone knows each other. Father Castiel most definitely recognizes Castiel, especially since he goes to the Catholic school around here.

He feels a moment of shame and regret at his hesitance—isn’t the entire reason he came here to confess how he’s treated Dean? For a moment, he was almost considering not telling Father Joshua about it… that would be wrong, and defeat the purpose. He came here to seek forgiveness, and that’s what he’s going to do.

“There’s a new boy in my class,” Castiel starts. “Ever since he met me, he has been… tormenting me. I have not been the kindest in return. I dread being near him, because he is brash and crude towards me. But I haven’t treated him gracefully. And just the other day he did something… something that made me think that he might more kindhearted than I originally thought. And, um—I am sorry for these and all my sins.”

Father Joshua smiles like he knows exactly what Castiel’s talking about. Of _course_ he knows—Dean’s family are the only new people that have moved to this town in God knows how long.

Father Joshua just leans back in his chair and smiles. “Did you ever consider that this boy may be a—a test, of sorts? From God?”

Castiel never really thought of it that way. He tells the priest as such.

He smiles at Castiel. “Your penance is to be good to this man. No ‘Hail Marys’, no ‘Our Fathers’. Go out of your way to be kind to him this coming week. Treat him well, with the respect God meant for us to treat each other with. Perhaps if you are good to him this week, the rest will follow.”

He says his Act of Contrition, and leaves the confessional.

+++

The Penance that Father Joshua gave him seemed much more manageable when he was in the confessional. Now, back at school, however—things are more difficult.

Castiel wants to be angry at Dean for the fight that went down, the events afterwards… but he can’t bring himself to really even talk about it. People ask him why his face is bruised and he makes up some excuse that he can’t even remember. When asked about it for what seems to be the hundredth time in his science class, he can feel Dean’s eyes on him as he lies his way through some cover story.

Castiel does his best to ignore the looks that Dean’s giving him, but it’s harder to pretend when Dean speaks.

“Why’d you lie?” the boy asks.

Why _did_ he lie? It’s a very good question. Telling the truth about the fight just didn’t even seem to cross his mind—it wasn’t even an option. Castiel grasps for the truth, and finally settles on an answer.

“I’m not the type to get into fights,” he says by way of explanation.

“So you lie about it.” It’s not a question.

“I have a reputation uphold,” he replies. “My whole family does.”

Dean raises an eyebrow. “And what if I were to tell everyone the truth? What if Azael were to tell everyone the truth, or your sister? Or even Samandriel, however little of the story he knows?”

Cas shakes his head. “Azazel got decked by my sister; I don’t think he’d like to tell that story to everyone here. Samandriel probably won’t want to advertise his… differing beliefs, and Anna is on the same boat as I am.”

“So that just leaves me,” Dean says with a little smirk.

Castiel sighs, annoyed by this whole conversation. It’s like explaining everything to a child that just keeps asking “Why?” to every answer you give. It’s a tedious game that he doesn’t care to play.

“No offense, Dean,” he says, “but if people were asked if they’d believe your account over mine, I think I’d be the more trustworthy source.”

The boy blinks in surprise, and for a second Castiel regrets his words—until Dean scoffs out, “Wow, okay. Fuck you, too.”

Castiel blinks, and mentally slaps himself for being so rudely blunt. His stomach drops as he starts wondering if Dean is the type of person who would try to get back at Cas out of spite, and then his stomach drops even further when he realizes that he’s not doing his penance. He was supposed to be nice to Dean, and he’s just insulted him instead.

But then the teacher calls the class to attention, having finished roll call. Mrs. Harvelle is a no-nonsense type, so everyone shuts up when she starts addressing the class.

Ellen Harvelle is well-liked and very respected by the kids in the school. Of course, it helps that she co-owns the town’s most popular bar and food joint—called The Roadhouse—with Bobby Singer, her husband. It’s become difficult for Cas to remember to call her “Mrs. Harvelle” instead of “Ellen” when he’s in school. Outside of school, she has insisted many times that everyone call her by a first-name basis, even if they are current students.

“Okay. First of all, announcement: I’ve decided _not_ to give you all a unit test.” Excited murmuring fills the classroom, which Mrs. Harvelle cuts off when she says, “Hey, wait a second, let me finish. I’ve decided not to give you a unit test, but instead I’m giving you a partner, take-home project.”

She begins to explain what the project should include, giving examples and ideas. She hands out a rubric to each student, and Castiel looks over the requirements while she continues to speak.

“This project will replace your unit test,” Mrs. Harvelle says. “So no formal test, but the same amount of points as one. I don’t want any rushed work. I can tell the difference between three weeks of work and something that you just threw together the morning it’s due.”

“Do we get to pick our partners?” a voice calls.

“No, I’ve assigned them for you,” she says. A collective groan fills the classroom. “Oh, don’t start. I’ve picked people I think you’ll work well with, even if they aren’t your best friend. This project is due in three weeks from today, no exceptions unless you talk to me _before_ the day it’s due. Any questions?”

The room is silent, and Mrs. Harvelle nods. “Alright, good. I’m going to read out your partners, so listen up. No talking until I’ve gone through the entire list. Tessa, you’ll be working with Samandriel…”

Castiel listens intently, waiting for his name to be called. But as it gets further and further down the list, he starts zoning out, focusing on all the other pairings and wondering how they’re going to work together.

“Ash, you’re paired with Balth… Cole, you’re going to be working with Zeke on this… Bela, you’re going to be working with Meg…”

Cas can see Dean relax visibly at the mention of Bela working with Meg. For some reason, this idea pulls him from his previous thoughts to wonder about this, and then—

“Castiel, you will be paired with Dean on this.”

+++

Castiel pulls his locker open violently, stuffing the books and binders he doesn’t need into the small, cramped space.

Of _course_ Dean Winchester had to be his partner on this project. Why did Dean, of all his classmates, have to be his assigned partner?

Well… Castiel could always go to the teacher and ask for a different person to be his person, tell her he was uncomfortable with this whole ordeal.

Cas sighs, putting the last of the books in his locker and pulling out the ones he needs for homework. No, going to the teacher would be too much, too dramatic. Castiel could handle some hyper-masculine jerk to be his partner on this.

Besides, Father Joshua asked him to try to treat him with kindness.

Lost in his thoughts, Castiel’s locker closes suddenly with a loud _bang_. Castiel startles and jumps back with a surprised yelp, staring at the locker before he registers that it was closed _by_ someone, not just of its own accord.

“Hey there,” Dean says, flashing a brilliant grin. “Partner,” he adds.

Castiel regards him coldly. He has never wanted to curse out a person so much, but he resists. _Be nice_ , he tells himself.

“Where and when do you want to meet for this project?” Castiel grunts.

Dean’s eyebrows shoot up. “Wow, he talked to me!” he says, mock amazement in his voice. “Turns out I _am_ good enough to be acknowledged by the Great Castiel Novak.”

“Okay, _forget_ this,” Castiel mutters to himself, and starts to leave.

“Wait,” Dean calls after him, surprise in his voice. “Don’t you want to know when we’re meeting up?”

“I couldn’t care less, actually,” Castiel replies, as the doors to the school shut behind him.

He’s halfway home on foot when he feels his phone vibrate in his pocket. He pulls it out and looks at the screen, telling him he has a new message from Dean. Immediately following Dean’s name are the sunglasses and heart eyes emojis, and Castiel feels the urge to strangle something.

He pulls eyebrows together, frowning at the screen. That can’t be right. He never asked for Dean’s phone number, nor did he ever give Dean his own. He unlocks the phone and looks at the message.

 _Meet me at my house after you’re done sulking_. There are few numbers and a street name that Cas assumes is an address.

He types out a reply, _Is this really Dean Winchester?_ and sends it.

His phone vibrates just a few seconds later. _The one and only ;)_ is the reply.

Castiel’s face screws up in disgust. He types back angrily, _How did you get this number?_

 _You’re real easy to pickpocket, baby_ , Dean texts back, nearly immediately.

Castiel grits his teeth. _I’ll meet you around 4:30_ , he says, and sends the message.

 _Looking forward to it,_ Dean replies.

This is going to be hell.


	6. Chapter 6

Castiel shuts off his car and stares at the house in front of him. He’s driven past it hundreds of times—but it’s never been occupied before and he’s never really gotten a really good look at it until now.

The house is definitely a fixer-upper. It’s painted red with gray-blue trim, chipping and faded in some places. There’s a porch swing out front. Steps lead to the door. There’s a broken wind chime hanging from the ceiling of the porch.

The lawn is surprisingly well kept, though, with healthy green grass and rows of flowers lining the pathway to the porch steps. He wonders how the Winchester family managed to coax life back into the previously yellow, dry, and generally dead lawn.

Cas sighs to himself, undoing his seatbelt and getting out of the car. He’s a couple minutes early and he wants to delay this as much as he can.

So, he spends a few seconds just sitting in his seat before he gets out of the car and walks to the trunk to retrieve his backpack, and then he wastes a few seconds rifling through his backpack to make sure he has everything he’ll need for this project—rubric, science binder, notes, etc. Then he decides that he can’t waste any more time without looking like he’s purposely dragging his feet, and makes his way to the door.

He rings the doorbell once, admiring his surroundings—the house really is charming, despite its tattered first impressions—as he waits for an answer.

The door opens just a few seconds later, Dean’s grinning and mocking face there to greet him.

“Punctual as always,” he says cheerfully, leaning on the doorframe. His hands are tucked into his pockets, sleeves rolled up to his elbow. His forearms are distracting.

Castiel just huffs and clears his throat. He’s going to be civil. “May I come in?”

Dean steps aside and gestures dramatically, signaling Castiel to enter. Cas just barely restrains himself from rolling his eyes.

“We can work in the living room,” Dean says. He directs Castiel to the living room, and then exits the room to come back a few seconds later with two bottles of water, one of which he hands the Castiel. He sits down next to Cas on the couch.

“Thanks,” Cas mutters, accepting it. He sets it on the coffee table without opening it and then reaches for his backpack to grab the things they might need.

“So,” Castiel says. “Should we… figure out a work schedule?”

“Alright,” Dean says amiably.

Castiel grabs a pencil and paper, ready to write down a few notes for himself just so he doesn’t forget. “Are there any days that you can’t work?”

Dean thinks for a moment. “I work after school on Thursdays, Fridays, and all day on Saturdays,” he says. “So, not then.”

Castiel nods. “Alright. How about Sundays, Mondays, and Tuesdays?”

“We can’t work on Sundays,” Dean says, but doesn’t state a reason.

Castiel glances up at him. “Why not?”

Dean shrugs. “Isn’t it, like, _illegal_ in the Bible to do that?” He smiles at Cas mockingly, and that’s when Cas’ resolve breaks. There are many things about Dean that tork him off, but this is where he draws the line.

So, Cas doesn’t fulfill his penance. That’s fine, he guesses. He’ll just have to live with the guilt on his shoulders, and that’s okay.

Castiel stares at Dean for a second. Then he closes his book, stands, and starts packing up his things.

“What are you doing?” Dean says, confused.

“I’m going home,” Castiel says. “And tomorrow, I’m going to talk to Mrs. Harvelle and ask her for a different partner on this stupid project.”

“Wha—Cas, no, wait.” Dean scrambles out of his chair and puts a hand on Cas’ shoulder, which he shrugs off immediately.

“No, Dean,” Castiel growls. “I’m going to be honest. There’s many things that you do that I don’t like—the flirting, the vulgar joking, the fighting— _whatever._ I can handle those things, even if I don’t like them. But once you insult my religion, my belief system, I am done. You don’t even believe—what would you know about my religion?”

Dean clenches his jaw. “I’m not completely stupid, Cas. I know about your religion—I know about a shit ton of religions. Whether I choose to believe in them is my business. Whether I choose to be an atheist or not is my business. Believe in whatever you want—talk to your imaginary God or whatever if that makes you feel better, but don’t insult me if I don’t.”

Castiel glares at him. “And you think that justifies the fact that you’ve just made fun of my beliefs? You think that just because you’re atheist that you can say whatever disrespectful shit you want? You think that excuses it? Because it doesn’t. I know you might believe that religion is stupid, and that I—in extension—am stupid for believing in it, but can’t you just live and let live? Can’t you just respect my right to believe in whatever, and I’ll respect you to _not_ believe in whatever?”

He shoulders his bag, not waiting for a reply, and starts walking to the door. His hand is on the knob when he feels Dean’s hand on his shoulder again, spinning him around.

“Wait, Cas, wait,” Dean says. “I’m sorry, okay?”

Castiel stares at him, not responding. He crosses his arms and Dean continues one with his speech.

“I’m sorry. I was being a dick. Please don’t leave.” His pleas sound genuine, his eyes pleading. “I shouldn’t have said that. It was inconsiderate. I know—I know how much your beliefs mean to you. I shouldn’t have said it. You totally have the right to… yeah. I’m sorry.” He begins to babble in his nervousness. “You’re right about me being a dick when it comes to stuff like this—I’m really sorry, please don’t go to Ellen about this, she’ll be fucking pissed—”

“Dean,” Cas interrupts. “It’s fine.” It sounds like Dean was on the verge of real panic, and, honestly, Castiel feels a little bad for treating him like that.

He stares at Castiel in shock. “Really?”

“Really,” Castiel insists. He sighs. “It’s okay. I’m sorry. I kind of… overreacted.”

Dean nods. “Cas, this… being around each other for hours at a time isn’t going to work if we’re just going to jump down each other’s throat every single second. And then we’ll fail this, and just be pissed at each other.”

Castiel rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. “I know,” he says, and then sighs again. He holds out his hand wearily. “Truce?”

The boy smiles slightly and takes Cas’ hand, shaking once. “Truce,” he agrees.

+++

After not being able to decide on a good topic of their own or the project, Dean and Castiel take to the Internet to look up ideas.

They’re sitting at the dinner table in front of Dean’s old, beaten-up laptop that just barely runs. Every few minutes, Dean has to hit it once or twice when it freezes up. They’re doing their best to figure out a topic—Castiel starts a list of potential projects, eliminating one by one.

They settle on a topic they both agree on, one that they can do in a relatively short amount of time and then spend the rest of the time putting together their project and writing the research paper that goes along with it.

While they’re planning out the details of their project—what day they’ll do it, what supplies they’ll need, who will be in charge of what, etc.—Dean’s little brother Sam gets home from school.

“Sam!” Dean says excitedly.

The younger Winchester looks up at Dean from under his long bangs, setting his book bag by the door. “Hey, Dean,” he says, giving him a small smile.

Dean stands and walks over to Sam, throwing an arm around his shoulders. “Cas, this is my little brother, Sammy,” he says, ruffling Sam’s shaggy hair.

The younger brother shoves at Dean’s arm. “Dude. ‘Sammy’ is the name of a chubby twelve-year-old. My name is Sam.” But he’s smiling widely, a glimmer of affection in his eye.

“Whatever you say, _Sammy_ ,” Dean says dismissively. “We’re having spaghetti for dinner.”

Sam rolls his eyes, Cas grinning. “Okay. Call me down when it’s ready.” The boy exits the room then, disappearing up the stairs.

Dean settles back into his chair while Castiel stares at him. Cas’ grin is still in place, and he must look really creepy with that look on his face. While they aren’t exactly friends at this point—more like acquaintances-bordering-on-co-workers—it makes Cas happy to see Dean happy like this.

“What?” Dean says, referring to Castiel’s staring.

Castiel smiles a little wider. “You really love that kid, don’t you?”

Dean blinks in surprise and then blushes, making Castiel cackle. “Yeah, well. He’s a good kid, real bright. He’s… he’s actually got something going for him, you know?”

“I knew you had a soft spot somewhere,” Castiel says lightly. “Underneath all that… _that_.” He gestures to all of Dean, making him scowl.

“Shut up,” Dean says defensively. He crosses his arms over his chest, directing his gaze to the floor. Castiel can see the tips of his ears are red.

“Not so big and bad as you make yourself out to be, is all,” Castiel says.

Dean raises his eyebrows. “There’s more than one side to every person, Cas,” he says simply, and then goes back to writing items down a list of supplies.

Castiel goes silent at Dean’s blunt dismissal. He thought for a second that they were getting along pretty well, but it’s obvious that he kind of overstepped his bounds a little. Perhaps Dean doesn’t want him as anything more than what he is—an acquaintance. Someone he knows but doesn’t really care about. So he just turns his eyes back to his work, stomach churning with embarrassment.

“I think you’d get along with him,” Dean says suddenly. Castiel’s head snaps up, meeting Dean’s eye. The boy smiles ruefully. “Better than with me, at least. I know you… don’t really like me.”

Castiel tilts his head to the side. “I don’t dislike you, Dean.”

And the thing is—he’s telling the truth. Honestly, he’s sure the two of them could be friends, if Dean decided to act how Castiel’s seen him act. He knows Dean’s a good person, deep down, and he’s pretty sure that for some reason he feels the need to put on this act of sorts.

Dean scoffs, and Castiel tilts his head even further, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. “I’m serious,” Castiel insists. “Honestly, Dean. I’m being truthful.”

“You _don’t_ dislike me,” Dean says in disbelief. “ _You_ don’t dislike me. Have you _been_ here the last month?”

“I just didn’t understand you before,” he explains.

“Oh, and you understand me _now_?” He shakes his head. “One month of observing me doesn’t mean you know me, Cas.”

Cas can’t blame him for acting and thinking this way, but he doesn’t let Dean’s backhanded comment deter him.

“Well, I believe I am starting to understand you,” Castiel says. “The pieces are… coming together now. I was frustrated by you before, because you put on a front that irritated me. The flirting, the joking, the bad-boy attitude… but then you did those other things, like step in to protect Samandriel from Azazel, and you patched me up afterwards, and you drove me home even after I got angry with you. You didn’t even hesitate to help the people who needed it. I think that’s the real Dean Winchester, not the flirtatious jerk that I didn’t like.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Dean says, his voice sweet and thick like honey, “don’t tell me that the flirting doesn’t get to you at least a _little_.”

Castiel sighs, a little bummed out that _that’s_ the response Dean chose after Castiel’s whole speech right there. “You’re doing it again,” he deadpans.

“Sorry,” Dean says automatically. It’s an unspoken part of their truce that Dean doesn’t flirt with him, and Castiel doesn’t spout Bible verses in his face whenever he does something wrong. He especially isn’t allowed to say ‘Don’t take the Lord’s name in vain,’ as Dean does that way too often to stop now, anyway. Castiel thinks he’s getting better, though.

He smiles again. “I think we could get along just fine, Dean. We could be friends.”

Dean looks up at him. “You think so?” he sounds doubtful. “You’re a great person, Cas, but… the real me—the one that’s around when we’re not in a truce—he’s a lot to handle.”

Cas has to think about what he wants to say for a few seconds before he actually says it, and then decides that he should know. If Dean doesn’t want to tell him, he doesn’t have to. So he says, “Is that why I don’t see you hanging around anyone else at school, except for Bela Talbot?”

The boy clenches his jaw a little and sighs. “Okay, if we’re going to be honest here—I really can’t stand Bela. She just likes to keep me around and pretend she’s doing me a favor by being near me.” He shakes his head. “I’m pretty sure she thinks we’re dating or something. We’ve never even hung out alone, though.”

Castiel laughs. “She’s got a lot of pride,” he says. He tilts his head a little, thinking. “You’re a lot humbler than you are on the surface, Dean.”

The boy stops for a moment, thoughtful. Then, quietly, he says, “You were right about the whole putting on a front, thing. At first, people are interested, but then they usually keep away. Because I’m so fuckin’ dangerous and all that. They like the idea, but not the reality.”

“And what’s the reality?” he asks.

Dean smirks. “You’ll have to figure that one out yourself, Cas,” he says. “Then you’ll be able to decide for yourself whether or not you want to stick around.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize in advance for the slightly awkward ending to this chapter—this chapter was starting to get really long, and I had to split it into two. The next chapter will begin directly where we leave off in this chapter. :)

The reality is this: Dean is a boy hiding within a shell of metal armor, and he’s trying his hardest to fend Castiel off.

Over the next few days that they work together, Dean gives information about his life to Castiel sparingly. He knows Dean loves classic rock, his brother, and pie, but knows next to nothing about his father and only knows that his mother isn’t around.

Castiel doesn’t want to pry, and he definitely doesn’t want to force information out of Dean that he’s not willing to give up. But Castiel wants to be friends with Dean, especially after what he revealed in their first work session. He feels like Dean could use someone to talk to, besides his little brother. Not that he doesn’t like Sam, but there are certain things that you tell your friends that you don’t tell even your closest relative.

Still, the two grow closer together. Dean is becoming more comfortable with Castiel, and Castiel is learning more about Dean’s habits and rituals. Dean likes to play classic rock while they work, and he’s more than willing to give Castiel a “musical education” as he calls it, after Castiel admits that he’s never really heard any of the music.

Castiel also learns that Dean is exceptionally smart. He’s read quite a lot, and he argues with Castiel about the symbolism of _Slaughterhouse-five_ , or tries to dispute with him which of Robert Frost’s poems is the best (Castiel thinks it’s “Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening” but Dean will not be swayed from “Nothing Gold Can Stay”).

The day they finally have all the supplies to start working on the actual project, Castiel comes over to Dean’s house earlier than usual, carrying two bags from the town store. When Dean answers the door, Castial gives him a bright smile, and Dean moves aside to let Castial in.

Castiel takes over the job of setting up the posterboard while Dean cuts out the things that Cas is going to be gluing on there.

The process is tedious and it takes longer than it feels like it should. Castiel’s hands are very sticky with not-yet-dry glue, and he’s thinking of moving a few things around on the posterboard when Dean reaches over to grab the glue and start cleaning up, assuming Castiel’s finished before he actually is, and Castiel grabs his hand to stop him.

“I need that,” he says.

Dean pulls his own hand back like he’s been burned. “Ew. Don’t touch me, you’re sticky.”

“Does that make you uncomfortable?” Castiel asks.

“Yeah. It’s gross.”

“Oh,” Castiel says simply, and turns back to continue staring at the posterboard. So, Dean’s a clean freak. That’s new information. Cas smiles slyly and makes like he’s going to wash his hands, only to turn around when Dean’s not looking and plaster his hands all over Dean’s face.

Dean yelps and tries to bat away Cas hands, but Castiel fights hard to get his hands wherever there’s skin.

“What—Cas, what the fuck!” Dean cries. “No, stop that!”

“What’s the matter, Dean?” Castiel giggles— _giggles_ —and doesn’t relent. He lays one hand on Dean’s hand and the other on Dean’s face while the boy tries his best to push Castiel away from him.

Finally, Dean wrenches his hand away from Cas’ grip and attacks his middle, digging fingertips into Cas’ sides, and Castiel yelps and then starts laughing for an entirely different matter. He grabs Dean’s hands and shoves them away, trying to escape from Dean’s grasp.

Castiel is breathing heavily, trying to catch his breath, while Dean stares at him in shock before realizing what’s just happened.

“Oh my God, you’re ticklish,” he says, a slow smile spreading across his face.

“Don’t—” Castiel starts to reprimand, but then catches himself. “Don’t you _dare_ ,” he amends, backing away from Dean.

But the boy isn’t having it. He’s grinning like the cat that got the damn cream right now, advancing towards Cas with his hands raised. Soon enough, Castiel backs himself into the counter, and Dean’s smile grows impossibly wider. He’s trapped, now—nowhere to go except forward.

“ _No_ ,” Castiel repeats. He raises his hands in surrender, starting to smile and giggle in anticipation. “No, no, n— _Dean_!”

Dean grabs him and shoves his fingers into Cas’ sides, making him yelp loudly.

“Stop it! No! Have mercy!” Castiel gasps. He hates being tickled— _hates_ it, and Anna knows that it’s a weakness of his and hasn’t hesitated to use it against him before.

“No can-do, Cas,” Dean says in the calmest voice ever, even while Castiel screams and flails madly. “This is my revenge.”

“You jerk!” Castiel shouts. “Get the fuck off me!”

That makes Dean still completely, before pulling back to look at Cas’ face. Castiel is frozen himself, except for his heaving chest. Dean takes a step back, staring at Castiel’s face like he doesn’t even know him anymore. It takes a second for it to completely sink in, and then Dean speaks.

“You said a bad word,” Dean says.

“No,” Castiel says automatically. “No, I didn’t.”

“No, Cas, I _heard_ you say a bad word.” He is absolutely astounded by this information, as is Castiel. “You said it. You said ‘get the fuck off me.’”

“No, I didn’t,” Castiel denies. “I did _not_!”

“Yes, you did! I heard it with my own two ears!” Dean says. His face is lit up in childlike glee; smile brighter than the sun, eyes sparkling and vivid. “Oh, today’s such a good day. I should write this down, put it in the history books.”

“It just slipped out,” he insists. “It doesn’t count.”

“It most certainly _does_ count,” Dean says.

Castiel shakes his head. “I can’t be blamed for it,” he says. “You’ve corrupted me.”

“Oh, I’ve corrupted you?” Dean scoffs.

“Yes, you have.” Castiel crosses his arms over his chest indignantly, jutting his chin up in defiance.

“And how have I done that?” Dean asks, grinning slyly, sidling up to Castiel, and leaning one arm on the counter.

It’s not flirting, not technically.

But they’re close. Very close. Castiel could tip his head forward and kiss Dean. It would take next to no effort. Dean’s eyes flick from his lips and back up to his eyes, and it’s obvious he’s thinking the same thing.

It’s different from that day in the church—something similar to this had taken place. They were close like this; Dean had taken off his glasses, called him gorgeous. But there’s still a major difference from then and now: Castiel wants Dean to kiss him.

Sure, Castiel has kinda wanted Dean to kiss him before—but this want is powerful and all-consuming, hitting him like a freight train.

The look in Dean’s eyes is different, too—before where they had been primarily lustful, they now look clear and decisive. And determined.

Before anything can happen, though, Castiel’s phone rings. Dean takes a small step backward and Castiel pretends that he didn’t just nearly jump out of his skin at the surprise interruption. He fishes his phone out of his pocket and answers it.

“Hello?” he greets.

“Castiel?” It’s his mother’s voice. “Where are you?”

“I’m at a friend’s,” he says. “We’re working on a project for school.”

“Do you know what time it is?” she barks.

“Um—” He turns, searching for a clock, finding one on the stove—and seeing that it’s fifteen minutes past his curfew. “Oh. Oh, I’m so sorry, mom, I got carried away—”

“This is twice you’ve gotten yourself into trouble this semester, young man,” she scolds. “The third time, I won’t let you off so easy.” And she hangs up.

Castiel pulls the phone from his ear, watching as his phone screen returns to normal. He looks up at Dean, who is dutifully averting his eyes from Cas’.

“I should get going,” Castiel says. His voice is reticent, not wanting to break the spell. “That was my mom.”

“Yeah,” Dean says softly. He smiles a little. “So I’ll see you tomorrow, right? We’re almost done, we can finish it up real easily tomorrow afternoon.”

Cas smiles. “Yeah, Dean. I’ll see you then.”

And then he leaves the house, bidding Dean farewell. Dean gives him a small wave before closing the door.

Castiel is in a daze the entire drive home.

+++

“So, we’re finished?” Castiel asks, looking at the poster board. It looks very good, if he does say so himself. It’s neat and orderly, with interesting pictures and all the required content. It’s due in a couple of days, too—so they finished it before they could have started panicking, and that’s probably a first.

“Well, did you do a last read-through of the paper?” Dean asks him.

“Yup,” Castiel says.

“Then we’re finished,” Dean says, and he sighs with relief before laughing excitedly. Castiel loves it when Dean laughs like that—it’s almost cute. “You wanna celebrate?”

“Celebrate how?”

Dean shrugs. “Food? A movie? I don’t care.”

Castiel thinks. “How about both?”

The boy grins and snaps his fingers, pointing at Castiel. “I like your style. How about I order a pizza?”

Cas smiles. “That’s a great idea.”

While Dean orders the pizza, Castiel calls his mother and tells her that he’s not going to be home for dinner as he’s eating with Dean. She’s a little reluctant at first, but then allows it, making him promise to spend time with his family later.

Castiel represses the urge to roll his eyes at her. Naomi’s always working—it’s not like she spends that much time with Castiel and Anna nowadays.

He hangs up moments later after assuring her that he’ll be on time for curfew this time. He wasn’t punished severely for his missing curfew the night before, but he did get a thorough chewing-out the second he stepped over the threshold of his house.

After hanging up, he feels a belated sense of guilt over how he’s thinking about his mother. _She’s doing the best she can_ , he rationalizes. It’s not fair of him to think of her so harshly when all she’s doing is trying to provide for him.

It must especially be a hard time for her, considering how long his father has been gone. Gosh, how many weeks has it been since he talked to him? How long has it been since he called?

He’s pulled from his thoughts when Dean hangs up the call and claps a hand on Cas’ shoulder.

“Alright, what movie do you want to watch?” he asks.

Castiel shrugs. “What do you have?”

“Oh, man,” Dean says. “Just—just come with me.”

Dean leads him upstairs, where—even after all these weeks—he hasn’t stepped foot yet. Dean enters the second door on the left, his bedroom.

The walls are covered with posters emblazoned with the names of bands, movies—mostly things that Castiel has never heard of before, but there are some recognizable names up there. Like Led Zeppelin—Castiel knows that that’s one of Dean’s favorites.

There’s a large cabinet next to Dean’s bed that he makes his way towards. When he kneels down and opens it, the inside is filled to the brim with DVDs.

“Whoa,” Castiel says.

Dean looks up and smiles at him. “Wanna look?” he offers.

Castiel makes his way over and kneels next to him. Dean starts taking them out one by one, handing them to Castiel after reading out the names.

Among the selection is the original _Star Wars_ trilogy movies, _Goodfellas_ , _Dr. Strangelove_ , _Fight Club_ , the _Back to the Future_ trilogy, _The Shawshank Redemption_ … honestly, the selection is overwhelming, especially when these are all movies that Castiel hasn’t even seen yet. He tells Dean as such, and apparently that was the wrong thing to do, because the boy’s eyes get wide as dinner plates, and his jaw drops in shock.

“Oh my God, are you serious? You’ve _never_ seen these movies? Any of them?”

Castiel shakes his head, and Dean groans in what sounds like disappointment. “I am personally offended, Cas. I thought you were better than that.”

Castiel glares at him. “Shut up, you jerk,” he says, and pushes at Dean’s shoulder playfully. “We don’t have a movie theater up here. I’d have to go down to the city to see a movie.”

Dean shakes his head. “That is no excuse, my friend. These movies have been out for years, Cas. Decades, even—some of them, at least.”

Castiel stares blankly at Dean, while the boy just sighs and rolls his eyes.

“We’ll start with _Star Wars_ ,” Dean says, getting to his feet. “I’ll be right back. I think I heard the doorbell.”

Castiel smiles at him, and Dean exits the room. Castiel looks at all the movies around him and thinks back—there are movies in here that he’s definitely heard of, but never seen before. He just never developed an interest in them, never felt compelled to watch them.

Castiel gets up from the floor and takes in his surroundings. There are still several boxes not unpacked yet in the corner—Dean had just moved in last month, after all.

One picture in particular draws his attention. It’s a small square of paper sitting on Dean’s bedside table, right next to his lamp. The colors are a little faded and the edges of the photo are a little bent, but it’s obvious that this picture has been kept in good care over the years. Castiel looks closely at it—it’s a picture of a small, blond boy with a bowl-cut—easily recognizable as a young Dean when noticing his eye color—and a blonde woman who seems to be in her late twenties, perhaps her early thirties. She has her arms around Dean, smiling at the camera. Dean himself looks content—ecstatic, even… and the sight of the picture makes Castiel as happy as it makes him sad.

“That was my mother,” Dean’s voice says from the doorway. Castiel jumps and nearly knocks his lamp off the table, but catches it just in time. He blushes furiously and instantly feels guilty—even though the picture wasn’t exactly hidden and Castiel wasn’t trying to be a snoop—even if he feels like one right now—it’s obvious by the tone of Dean’s voice that he’s not happy.

Castiel stutters out, “I’m—sorry, I shouldn’t have just—”

“Cas, it’s fine,” Dean says, entering the room properly now. He’s carrying the box of pizza but now turns and sets it on his desk. “It was out there in plain sight, anyway.”

“What happened to her?” Castiel whispers. “If you, um, don’t mind me asking.”

“She died when I was little,” Dean says softly. “There was a, um, fire.”

“Oh,” Castiel says softly. “Dean, you don’t have to—”

“No, I want to,” he interrupts quickly. Dean takes a deep breath, dragging a hand down his face before continuing. “It started in my brother’s nursery. Faulty wiring in the walls or something. Anyway, my dad got Sam out first and then handed him off to me. He said to run out of the house as fast as I could and to not look back. Then he went back to help my mom—but the ceiling started collapsing. Even if he had made it in there, she would have already been dead.”

 _Crushed by the walls and ceiling,_ Dean doesn’t say. _Burned to death. With smoke-filled lungs._

“My dad almost died trying to save her,” he continues. “The firemen had to drag him out after he passed out from smoke inhalation.” He shakes his head. “I almost lost both of my parents in one night.”

Castiel is staring at Dean, speechless. He almost feels guilty for bringing it up—Dean obviously is still struggling with the loss of his mother. But then Castiel thinks, _Of course he’s still struggling from that. It’s something that affects you every day, in every aspect of your life. A member of your bloodline, a person who gave half of their self to create you… just gone._

Dean finally looks up and catches him looking, and his initial sadness turns to anger. He’s afraid that he’s going to be angry at him for making him talk about something that was so deep and personal—especially after all the weeks of giving barely any information about his life at all. That must have been hell for Dean to go through… he had to be so strong to weather the storm of his whole life.

“What?” Dean snaps, and Castiel doesn’t reply, stepping backwards a little from the force of Dean’s words. “If you’re just going to say ‘sorry for your loss’ and run out on me, Cas, you can just skip the pleasantries and leave.”

It takes a moment for the words to register—run out on Dean? How could he ever do that? He wouldn’t be strong enough to tear himself away from this boy.

“No, I—” Castiel starts, stumbling over his words a little. “I just think you might be the bravest person I’ve ever met.”

Dean blinks in surprise, not having expected that answer. “Oh.”

Cas is surprised that he actually said that out loud, too. And to Dean’s face. He blushes to the tips of his ears, and stares at the floor, not able to meet the boy’s eyes.

“Hey,” Dean says softly. “Hey, Cas, look at me.”

Castiel glances up for a second before staring at the middle of Dean’s forehead—it’s better than having to meet those eyes, at least, when they’re so full of hurt and confusion and other swirling, warring emotions.

“Thank you,” Dean says. “And I’m sorry for snapping at you. I’m just… I’m so used to people skipping out on me once they find out that I’m—I’m a mess, and I just… yeah. Sorry. It’s nothing on you, it’s not your fault.”

“I’m sorry,” Castiel says. “I shouldn’t have pushed you to answer when you didn’t want to.”

“Did I say that?” Dean asks. When Castiel shakes his head, he continues, “Then don’t worry about it. You deserve to know anyway, Cas. You’re my friend.”

Castiel’s brain short-circuits. “Really?” he asks, probably sounding a lot more hopeful than he should have.

Dean grins at him. “Well, yeah, considering you’re one of the only people I hang out with and like.”

Castiel returns Dean’s smile, before a thought hits him. If they were friends, that would effectively make Dean Castiel’s _only_ friend. Not that there’s anything wrong with that—but Castiel barely knows anything about Dean.

“Okay,” Castiel mutters, mostly to himself. “Screw the movie.”

“What?” Dean looks almost personally offended. “But—”

“You’re basically the only friend I have besides Anna, and I barely know you,” Cas explains. “So let’s get to know each other. You ask me a question and I have to answer completely truthfully, no matter what the question is.”

“O-okay,” Dean agrees. He looks a little reluctant to say yes when it means not watching _Star Wars_ , but he nods amiably.

“No matter the question. Okay? And no lying. That would defeat the purpose.”

“Wasn’t planning on it,” Dean says, smiling. “But I have one condition.”

“Yeah?”

“We get one free pass, no questions asked.”

Castiel thinks about it for a moment, and then nods. “Deal,” he says.

 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Didn't I tell you this chapter would be up soon? ;)  
> So, things are about to get sexual from here, and Castiel's actions and reactions may be a little heavy in his self-conflict here. And it's gonna definitely get worse from here on out, just a heads-up.  
> Also, this chapter is a little short compared to the others (I usually shoot for 2,000 words or more in each chapter, but this one is ~1,900) because it's mostly dialogue. So, sorry about that.   
> And again, if you need anything explained regarding the story, don't hesitate to ask me. :) I don't have a beta, so sometimes things will make sense in my head, but not to the people that read this. :P  
> Anyway, enjoy!

It starts off innocently enough. The questions are stock-standard getting-to-know-someone inquiries, like, “When’s your birthday?”

“January twenty-fourth,” Dean answers. “You?”

“August eighth,” Castiel says. “Wait—so you had your birthday… just a few weeks ago?”

He nods. “Yup.”

That would make Castiel nearly six months older than Dean, and for some reason that’s surprising. Dean has seem to have done more with his life, had more happen to him than Castiel, despite him being older. And, yeah, it’s only six months, but the idea that Dean’s had so much more happen to him… it makes Castiel feel boring, and he’s never felt like that before.

It’s surprisingly hard to figure out a question to ask. After a certain point, Castiel tells Dean that asking the same question to the person that just asked it is acceptable, and they only have to come up with their own question if desired.

“What’s an interesting fact about yourself?” Dean asks him.

Castiel thinks for a second, and then says, “I don’t have my license yet. But I drive around without my mother’s supervision anyway because we both decided that it would be pointless for her to drive with me everywhere, and I’m good enough at driving anyway.”

Dean laughs at that. “You fucking rebel,” he says.

Castiel blushes at that, and then shyly asks, “And what about you? What’s an interesting fact?”

Dean leans back against wall, tilting his head up in thought. _Damn_ , part of Castiel thinks, _he’s really beautiful when he does that—_

 _Shut up_ , the other part of him says.

“Um… I guess I’d say it’s pretty interesting that I’ve never stayed at one school for more than a year at a time,” Dean says, grinning.

“What?” Castiel asks.

“There’s usually some reason that I have to leave the school. God, I’ve been the new kid so many times.”

“Then, uh… what are some reasons you’ve gotten kicked out?” Castiel asks timidly.

Dean laughs. “C’mon, Cas, no need to be so shy. We’re all friends here, huh?” When Castiel nods, Dean continues. “Well, my dad used to be a marine, so we moved around from base to base a lot when I was a kid, and then I’d switch from school to school on the base. Then he retired and I started going to regular public school, and started getting in trouble.” He grins at Castiel mischievously. “I’ve gotten expelled a few times. Mostly for starting fights.”

“Wow,” Castiel says, chuckling a little. “You’re such a bad influence, Dean,” he teases. “It’s only a matter of time before I start wearing a leather jacket like you and start smoking.”

Dean scoffs. “Yeah, parents love me. And I don’t smoke… that often.”

Cas shakes his head. “As I said, Winchester. Bad influence. Anyway, it’s your turn.”

“Oh, yeah,” Dean says. He sits until he’s got his arms wrapped loosely around his legs, leaning his head on his knee as he thinks. “Um… if you could have one superpower, what would it be?”

“Hm… probably the ability to fly,” Castiel decides. “What about you? You seem like the kind of person that would like flying, to me.”

“Oh, _hell_ no,” Dean says quickly. “I hate flying.” He shudders dramatically. “I have a fear of airplanes. We had to get on one to get here, but I begged my dad to drive here instead, and he finally let me. God, I just—no.”

Castiel laughs at Dean’s reaction. “Well, then, what power would you like?”

Dean thinks. “I don’t really know. There are so many things I could have… But, I guess if I had to choose, it’d be the ability to have really good luck.”

Castiel laughs. “Is that even a superpower?”

“‘Course it is,” Dean says. “The ability to have whatever I want to have happen, happen. I’d say that’s a pretty good superpower.”

“I’d say that’s cheating, but okay,” Castiel laughs. “So, um, my turn? Okay…”

But then questions start getting deeper. With this kind of game, it’s pretty expected—if they had been among a group of friends, things would have taken a turn like this much earlier in the game, but considering Dean’s polite and Castiel’s a prig, it’s no surprise that it took this long to get there.

“What’s one thing you’ve never told anyone?” Dean asks him.

Castiel thinks back… he’s always been taught to be completely honest with those around him, so he hasn’t really had anything to hide… but there must be something.

Then it hits him. The only thing he’s really never told anyone else is his undeniable, uncontrollable attraction to Dean Winchester, his only friend, the boy that he’s getting to know _right now_. Not even Anna knows.

“Pass,” Castiel says. Dean nods. “Just ask a different one.”

“Okay, so… How old were you when you had your first kiss?” Dean asks instead.

This one, Castiel can answer—it was a hot summer night, he was with Anna and a few of her friends, playing spin-the-bottle. When it was his turn, the bottle spun and landed on a nice girl named Daphne. He didn’t mind kissing her too much—she was beautiful, Castiel could see that. They had known each other for a few years, and she was devoted to her religion, something that Castiel really admired about her. He didn’t think that he would have wanted to kiss anyone else there.

“Fifteen,” Castiel says. “How old were _you_?”

Dean smiles ruefully to himself. “Eleven,” he says.

“Eleven?” Castiel says, shocked. Well, since it’s Dean, he guesses he’s not so shocked.

Dean nods. “Yeah. With a girl named Cassie. I thought I was in love with her after that.”

Castiel laughs. “How cute,” he teases.

“Shut up,” Dean grouses, but he’s smiling too. “Okay, my turn—uh… Do you get jealous easily?”

“Hm,” Castiel says, thinking. “I don’t know. I’d like to say I don’t, but I honestly haven’t really had a crush on someone hard enough to get jealous if they’re with someone else or like someone else.”

Dean nods. “Your turn, then. Hurry up, we don’t have all day.”

Castiel pushes playfully at Dean’s shoulder. “Shut up, you jerk.”

As Castiel is thinking up a question—thinking of something he really wants to learn about Dean Winchester—he’s suddenly hit with the thought from the day that he first met Dean, when he was talking with Anna in the cafeteria:

_“He was expelled from his last school. His parents put him in this school to straighten him out.”_

_“Wow,” he had said, unimpressed. “So girls love him because he’s a troublemaker? What did he do? Take a picture of a test and send it to his friends? Get in a fight with a student?”_

_“People say he had sex with a teacher.”_

And he knows that _that’s_ what he wants to ask him—he’s kind of wanted to know it since the first time he met Dean, but was afraid to ask, considering the nature of the question… but Dean still has a free pass. He can always say no to the question if he doesn’t want to answer it.

He knows he’s just trying to excuse himself; it’s still probably wrong to ask Dean that question. But he asks it anyway.

“Did you really… with a teacher?” he stutters out. _Smooth, Castiel, real smooth,_ he thinks to himself.

Dean smirks, chuckling a little. It’s like a switch has been flipped—one second, his face is open and friendly, the next he’s looking at Castiel like he’s going to eat him alive. Goosebumps rise on his skin—oh, God, he’s not going to survive this.

“You’re gonna have to be more specific than that, Cas,” Dean says— _purrs_ , even. “Did I _what_ with a teacher?”

Cas shifts in his seat a little. The gravelly tone of Dean’s voice sends a shiver up his spine, and his mouth is suddenly dry. “Did you… _you_ know,” he tries. He doesn’t want to say it. Or maybe he just wants to draw this moment out, string it along and make Dean keep looking at him like that.

“I _don’t_ know,” Dean responds, “unless you tell me.”

The _sweetheart_ at the end of that sentence is implied, but Cas hears it loud and clear. Dean’s fucking with him again, but Castiel isn’t telling him _knock it off_ or _I’m not gay_. No, it’s different this time, and they both know it.

So Castiel takes it a step further.

“Did you fuck a teacher?” he asks.

Dean’s eyes widen in pleasant surprise at Cas’ use of a curse word. His lip curls in a wolfish grin, and Castiel feels like he’s shaking with the anticipation—fucking hell, Castiel wants Dean to kiss him, touch him, do _something_ —his skin is humming, screaming for touch. The blood in his veins feels electric.

“No,” Dean says, casually, like it’s the most inconsequential thing in the entire world, “he fucked me.” And then adds on, as an afterthought, “The first few times, at least.”

_Oh, for the love of God._

The image that gives Castiel is absolutely stunning—Dean on his back, legs wrapped around a thick waist, breathing out short, stuttered gasps, and his fingers scrambling for something to hold on to as a man thrusts in and out of him at a brutal pace.

Or, perhaps, Dean with his face pressed down into a mattress, his ass up in the air. His jaw slack with pleasure. Fingertips pressed into soft, pale skin with bruising force. Loud moans and the slap of skin.

There’s a moment when Castiel feels his body acting of its own accord. He begins leaning forward, about to kiss Dean, and Dean is doing the same—he can see Dean’s eyes trained on his lips. Anticipation thrums under his skin, and he _wants_ like he’s never let himself want before.

They both startle when they hear a knock on the door, and they both scramble back to their previous spots.

“Come in,” Dean says, and the door opens. It’s Sam, and he looks a little scared to enter at first, but once he takes in his surroundings he enters the room fully.

“Hey Sammy,” Dean says, smiling, like everything is completely normal. Meanwhile, Castiel is scrambling to grab a folder to put in his lap to hide the obvious bulge in his jeans.

“Hi, Dean. Hey, Cas,” Sam greets. “Dinner soon?”

“There’s pizza,” Dean says, pointing to the box on his desk. “Help yourself.”

“Pizza?” Sam asks, smiling. “What’s the occasion?”

“Cas and I finished our project,” Dean says, grinning. He leans over and throws an arm over Cas’ shoulders. “So we celebrated with pizza and a movie.”

“Yeah,” Sam says. He looks from the very blank TV to Cas, eyeing him up and down suspiciously, and Castiel’s face flushes against his will.

 _He knows,_ Castiel thinks, panicked. But instead he feigns innocence by grinning at Sam. Sam smiles back and strides over to Dean’s desk to grab a piece of pizza and then leaves the room quickly, shutting the door behind him.

It’s quiet when Sam leaves. Castiel is panicking, his mind spitting awful things at him. He almost kissed a boy, he’s disgusting, he’s awful, he’s going to hell—

“So, um… you want to start that movie?” Dean asks, pulling him out of his thoughts.

Oh, he wants to. God as his witness, he fucking wants to.

But he can’t.

Because he needs to control himself, and he can’t do that when Dean is around.

“My curfew is soon,” he lies. “So I think I’m going to head home.”

Dean can see straight through him, and he knows that. But he ignores Dean’s knowing stare as he grabs all his things to leave.

This is going too far.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is also shorter than I'd like, but I didn't want to add anything more to it. There's some sexual stuff, and then the rest is plot. :)  
> The next chapter will be normal-length, I promise. (Perhaps even longer!) Enjoy!

The week goes on and Castiel doesn’t mention what happened at Dean’s house. They turn in their project on time, hang out after school a few times. Dean starts joining him and Anna at lunch, much to Anna’s surprise. She doesn’t seem to mind, though.

It comes as a surprise to everyone when they see Cas and Dean hanging out together. Bela Talbot looks at Castiel like she wants him to get hit by a bus, but Castiel couldn’t be happier—firstly, because he finally wiped that smug look off of Bela’s face like Dean was a prize she won, and secondly, because the strange looks he acquires anymore are that of amazement instead of abuse.

“This is great,” Castiel says one day at his locker. Dean leans on the lockers next to him, both hands in his pockets. Despite the weather getting warmer, he still wears his leather jacket and boots with his school uniform—despite being called out by several teachers. Many of them have tried to make Dean change out of them or take them off, but Dean has pointed out many times that his clothes technically aren’t a violation of the student handbook—a fact that is probably going to change by the time next year rolls around.

“What is?” Dean asks.

“That people are scared of me, now,” Cas says, smirking at Dean. He zips up his backpack and starts to put it over his shoulders with one hand while he shuts his locker with the other.

Dean scoffs. “Afraid? Of you?”

Castiel nods gravely. “Because I’m friends with you. They’ve only ever known me as the weird, quiet little nerd.”

“Are you trying to tell me you’re _not_ a weird, quiet little nerd? Because that would be a lie, Novak. A _lie_.”

There are times—like this one, for instance—when Dean looks at Castiel in such a way that his heart feels like it’s going melt from the warmth that fills him. It’s a different kind of warmth—it’s a look like he’s being seen for the very first time.

But Castiel still doesn’t bring up the night in Dean’s room, even when they hang out several times after that. There’s no repeat of the incident, either. Castiel is too afraid of what will happen if he’s put in a situation like that again, uninterrupted.

He keeps himself just a little distant, brushing off Dean’s flirtations, which become less frequent as the week goes on. It’s nice, actually.

The weekend couldn’t be more welcome, however. Friday night comes and he declines the invitation to hang out with Dean, instead saying that he should come home since he’s been out with the boy most of the week. He collapses into his bed and decides to call it an early night. It’s only eight o’clock when he gets to sleep.

+++

He dreams about Dean’s hands.

Dean’s hands, callused and gentle, skimming over Cas’ shirt and coming to a rest at his hips. His thumbs slip under his shirt to press into the skin. Cas is suddenly very cold and very warm at the same time; cold everywhere else that Dean isn’t touching him, but warm with the fact that _Dean’s touching him._

He explodes with heat as he feels the hard planes of Dean’s chest press against his back. He leans his head back on Dean’s shoulder, and the boy leans in to tease Cas’ earlobe with his teeth. Castiel gasps and grabs at one of Dean’s hands, trying to steady himself.

“I’ve got you,” Dean whispers. “I got you, Cas.”

Dean puts his hand on top of Cas’ and laces their fingers together, and then starts guiding Cas’ hand up and down, palm flat on his own stomach, rucking up the shirt just to let it fall back again, over and over. Dean’s other hand lifts up to press against the side of Cas’ neck, holding him in place as Dean’s lips press gently against his neck, the small exposed part of his shoulder.

Castiel groans and arches his back, silently asking for more—more of what, Castiel isn’t sure. More touch, more words. Perhaps just more Dean.

Dean turns him around, staring at him for a second with soft eyes before leaning in and kissing Castiel breathless. And it’s good, so good—Dean’s teeth biting at his lower lip, Dean’s tongue in his mouth.

But he wants _more_ , though—he wants—he _wants_ —

Dean’s hands move downwards, gripping Castiel’s jeans, and his deft fingers start undoing his belt.

 

Castiel wakes up with a jolt, tangled in his sheets, damp with sweat and dick hard against his stomach. Without even thinking, Castiel stuffs his hand down his pants and wraps his fingers around his erection, only having to give it a few short pulls before he’s coming in his boxers.

Now is not the time for a freak out, he tells himself. Now is definitely not the time.

Especially not when he and Dean are finally beginning to become friends—hell, they _are_ friends.

He isn’t gay. He’s not. That would be wrong. Besides, aren’t you supposed to feel some kind of attraction when you’re younger to be gay? Castiel can’t remember any attraction to guys before this.

Then again, he can’t remember any attraction to girls _ever_.

It’s four in the morning before he gets back to sleep.

+++

He wakes up early and goes to confession the next day.

He sits in the separate box and talks to a screen, and tells Father Joshua everything.

“There’s a person in my class,” Castiel says, and he feels like he’s on the verge of tears. He hasn’t cried at confession since he was little, and the thought makes him feel small and vulnerable. “A person that makes me think… unclean thoughts.”

“What kind of thoughts?” Father Joshua says patiently.

“I—I want… I want… them. In a… carnal way. I don’t know why—I have never felt like this towards anyone. I don’t understand—I thought, I thought I was doing what was right, but then—then they just—I…”

“My child,” Father Joshua says kindly. “I know sometimes it is difficult to overcome our biology. You are young, and I know this can be a challenging time in your life. But you must not bow in the face of temptation. You have taken the correct first step by speaking with me.”

Castiel is nearly hyperventilating at this point. “It’s a guy, Father,” he blurts. “I’ve been thinking these thoughts about… about another boy.”

Father Joshua doesn’t even miss a beat. “Ah, I see. Have you acted on these thoughts?”

“No, Father.”

“Have you harmed anyone in your thinking?”

Castiel swallows. “My parents, maybe. If they knew. Is that lying? Whatever, that’s—that’s all. I am sorry for these and all of my sins.”

The priest hums in thought. “Alright. I remind you that it’s not their jobs to place judgment on you. Anyway—for your penance, I want you to say the rosary tonight, just once. Take special care when you say the Lord’s Prayer. Think about what you are saying; don’t just repeat it automatically.”

“Yes, Father,” Castiel says.

“And one more thing,” the priest says.

“Yes?”

“A sin is a sin. Everyone sins. Some are worse than others, yes, but the Lord is merciful and he loves all his creations. The only thing that matters is that you confessed this to me. I have absolved you in the name of Christ. Remember that.”

Castiel nods. “I understand. Thank you, Father.”

“You’re welcome.”

+++

Upon getting home, Castiel goes up to his room to fulfill his penance. There was the opportunity to say it while he was in the church, but he decides instead to go home and say it there, since this would take quite some time.

He enters his room, thinking over what Father Joshua had said. His soul feels better, _cleaner_ , after his confession, as it always does, but there’s still some lingering guilt on his shoulders. Castiel can’t wait for springtime. With spring comes new life, and that’s exactly what Castiel needs—new life, rebirth into something new. Something other than this hideous, blasphemous shell that he lives in.

He does his penance, saying all four decades of the rosary. He’s never had a penance that requires him to say so many Hail Marys and Our Fathers—usually he has to say four or five of each prayer and then he’s done. But he does this anyway, and he does think about the words when he says the Lord’s Prayer.

He’s said the Our Father twice before he realizes what Father Joshua was trying to get through to him—the lines that he was trying to tell him about.

_Lead us not into temptation,_  
_But deliver us from evil._

Father Joshua was trying to tell him this. Paired with his last confession with the priest, he was trying to tell him that Dean is not a test of how kind he can be, but that Dean is a test of temptation. He is supposed to resist Dean, resist his beauty and resist his desires. Dean is the “temptation,” and by combating his desire to have him, he will be delivered from evil.

That’s his test, his mission from God. And salvation is the reward.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Whew, here's the next chapter! It's very long for me (4,400 words!!), especially considering the last two chapters but there was no good place to break it up into two chapters, so here you go. There's some blatant homophobia in here (and, I guess bi-erasure or biphobia) from Castiel's mom, so just a heads-up. Hope you like this chapter!

** PART TWO: VERNAL POINT**

+++

February ends and melts into March. Springtime makes Castiel feel like his head has cleared of the winter storm that it was trapped within, and he feels, above all, rejuvenated. He wants to make things better for himself, and he wants to be loyal to God, so the first thing he does when he goes back to school after his confession is to talk to Dean and explain.

Dean is at his locker, grabbing books for his next class. When he spots Castiel, his face splits into a grin, which quickly starts to fade once he’s seen the serious expression on Cas’ face.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Dean asks him. He looks concerned, and the friendliness in his expression makes Castiel’s heart break a little bit. He looks nervous and scared—especially when Castiel says, “We need to talk.”

Dean shoulders his backpack a little more firmly and says, “Alright. What’s up?”

Castiel swallows the lump in his throat. Dean thinks that Castiel is going to “break up” with him in a sense—Dean’s used to being burned by the people he’s placed his trust in, Castiel knows that. He wants to tell Dean that whatever is going on in Castiel’s head is not his fault, but he sticks to the words that he so carefully planned out.

“Whatever happened, the other night,” Castiel starts, “it—um, can’t happen again.”

Dean’s eyebrows pull together. “Oh. You mean the—?”

“Yeah,” Castiel says, awkward now.

“Yeah, yeah. Um, okay. Yeah. I didn’t—was that uncomfortable for you? Did you not—you know, was that too much? I should have asked you, shouldn’t I have? That was really—”

“No, no,” Castiel rushes to assure him. “At the time, it just… it seemed like the right thing to do. But, in retrospect… I’m not, you know, gay. And you’re my friend, and I wouldn’t want to hurt you like that. That would just be unfair to you.”

Dean blinks, nodding in agreement. “Yeah, yeah, of course. Thanks.”

Castiel’s legs nearly give out from relief. “Thank you for understanding, Dean. That really—it means a lot.”

The boy smiles a little. “Hey, not a problem.”

It’s still awkward, but Dean smoothly changes the subject to something else.

The whole situation is surprisingly underwhelming. Castiel was bracing himself to try to comfort Dean in the hurt that Castiel caused him, but it seems that Dean is more or less _fine_ with the whole thing. Not that Castiel isn’t happy that Dean’s okay, but he just expected a bit more of a reaction, considering that Castiel feels like he wants to jump Dean’s bones every damn time he sees him.

Is Dean not affected? Doesn’t he care? Or did he never feel the same level of attraction that Castiel feels towards him?

Castiel feels a little sick. He’s glad he made this decision. It would have ended badly if Castiel had given into his desires and kissed Dean like he had so wanted to. Fortunately, though, Sam’s interruption had taken place. And that’s a good thing.

 _Why do you feel so empty, then?_ a voice in his head whispers. Castiel tells it to shut the fuck up.

 

Surprisingly, things go back to normal.

Well, things start becoming the way they should have been at the beginning. Dean and Castiel hang out on a regular basis, and the students and teachers are still both astounded when Dean starts joining Castiel and Anna for lunch.

Soon enough, though, Anna starts sitting with a few other girls at lunch, and it’s just Dean and Castiel by themselves.

They don’t mind being by theirselves, though. They’re nearly inseparable, connected at the hip. Castiel starts hanging around Dean so often that he’s even gotten to know Sam well enough. Dean was right when he said that Sam and Cas would get along—the two of them read a lot of the same books, and Castiel definitely likes Sam. They speak together even when Dean isn’t there.

Castiel is glad to have a friend like Dean—someone to confide in for every little thing, even if it’s not important. Castiel only just realizes that this is what it’s like to have a best friend—a true best friend that isn’t actually your sister, and won’t ever judge you.

And if sometimes Dean looks at Castiel like he’s drinking him in, like he wants to never stop looking, then that’s just fine. Castiel wants to tell him that he feels the same way.

But he’s made up his mind. No matter how much he wants Dean, he cannot have him.

+++

He’s at home, finishing up his homework. There are papers sprawled across his bed, a result of his constant procrastination. It’s only Tuesday and he feels like he’s drowning. Thankfully, they have only a half-day of school on Thursday and no school on Friday, on account of it being Holy Week.

Castiel smiles. He’s always liked Holy Week, because for some reason there’s that building sense of anticipation throughout the entire week. He always feels closer to God during this season more than any other and it is, for lack of a better word, exciting.

Soon enough, he’s distracted from his work again when he hears his mother calling his name. He gets up and goes downstairs to find her waiting in the kitchen.

“We’re hosting a barbeque after mass on Easter Sunday,” Naomi says. “So I need you to do your part and help straighten out the house a little bit. Mostly mopping and sweeping, if that’s alright with you.”

Castiel nods, and then he realizes something. Dean had told him last week that his family never really did anything for Easter, and that gives him an idea.

“Could I invite Dean and his family over for that?” Castiel asks. “He told me he didn’t have any plans on Easter and I thought it would be nice for him to—”

“I don’t really like you hanging out with that Winchester boy,” Naomi says suddenly, and Castiel freezes.

“Why not?” Castiel asks, getting slightly defensive. “He may be a little rough around the edges, but Dean is a good, respectful person, once you get to know him.” Rough around the edges might be a slight lie, but he’s telling the truth about being a good person. “He’s smart, too, mother. Just because he doesn’t look like or act like or have the same things as we do doesn’t mean that he’s a bad person.”

Naomi just shakes her head. “I’ve heard rumors about him, Castiel. Getting into fights, starting trouble… but I’ve heard worse, Castiel, and I think you know what I’m talking about.”

Castiel’s stomach drops. She knows about Dean and the teacher—but how? Dean told Castiel that they had kept it extremely quiet, and the media did not know. Could she have possibly heard from a kid at school or something?

“I can’t let a kid like that enter under my roof. What would the neighbors say, me letting a—a _sodomite_ under my roof?”

Castiel starts sweating. So, maybe she doesn’t know about the whole Dean/teacher thing, but she knows that Dean is bisexual, and she’s… incredibly against that. Castiel wants to jump out of his skin and leave this life. If that’s how she treats a person she doesn’t even know, how would she treat Castiel is she knew that he had those thoughts about Dean? What if—

No, he has to calm down. His mother is just being a little unreasonable. So he gathers his courage and tries to convince her further.

“He’s my friend,” Castiel says stubbornly. “He’s a good person, and it’d be nice for him and his family to come to something like this. You know I’ll just be bored out of my mind otherwise.”

She thinks about this for a second, Cas can see that she knows that he’s right. But then she says, “I don’t know, Castiel. Are you sure?”

But in the end, she finally caves. He calls Dean later and asks him to come over and bring his family. Dean smiles and says that he’ll be there, and if Castiel’s heart flutters a little bit at that, nobody has to know.

+++

They plan to go to the ten o’clock mass instead of the eleven, because the eleven is always the most packed, especially on Easter. There are two types of Catholics, Castiel thinks—the type that show up to mass every single Sunday and only skip if they are ill or dead, and the type that show up to mass for Christmas and Easter.

Castiel is proud to say that he’s the first type of Catholic, but he doesn’t place judgment on those who only come to mass for Christmas and Easter. Those are the two most important days of the Catholic religion, after all, and he can’t discredit them for at least showing up to that.

His opinion, honestly, has changed. He used to think of himself as better than the people who showed up to church sparingly, but now he realizes that it’s not a competition of who’s the better Catholic. He shakes his head to himself, as if scolding his past self.

Castiel wants to sit with Dean this time around, and his mother grudgingly lets him leave her side to search for Dean. Early mass or not, this place is still fairly packed. It may be difficult to find a spot at all.

“Hey, Sam, he’s over here—Cas!” a voice calls. Castiel turns and lays eyes on Sam and Dean, and—

Oh, Lord, Dean’s wearing a suit.

It’s a good suit, too, much better than the ill-fitting scraps of cloth  _barely_ passing for a suit hanging limply on Cas’ arms. Dean’s suit is tailored to his body, just the right lengths. It’s gray and he’s wearing a light purple shirt underneath and a striped tie, and oh, God, he’s so beautiful…

“Hey, dude,” Dean says, smiling at Castiel when he’s finally close enough. Sam is only two steps behind his brother, giving Castiel a small wave.

“Hello, Dean, Sam,” Cas greets. He returns Dean’s smile. “Should we go hunt for seats?”

 

Mass is always a little bit longer on days like these, but Father Joshua is a seasoned priest and can get through the mass quickly despite the fact that it _should_ at least take an hour.

When Cas was little, it was inevitable that he would get bored during mass, but he wouldn’t ever goof around. When he’s next to Dean, though, he can’t help but knock their knees together or push Dean's elbow off the back of the pew when they’re supposed to be praying or paying attention. Dean scoffs quietly and takes Castiel’s playfulness as a challenge, and soon enough their little game has caused several people to give them disapproving stares, one person to shush them, and at least three bruises on Cas’ arm.

“Your elbow is sharp, ow,” Dean whispers furiously. “Like a freakin’ weapon or something.”

Castiel just grins at him, and then someone is shushing them again and they snap to attention, eyes glued to the front of the church.

Before they know it, they’re being told to _go in peace_ and that’s the end of the mass. Everyone waits for the priest and the rest of his procession to get all the way to the end of the aisle before starting their shuffle out.

Dean drove to the church, since his house is just a little bit out of the range of walking distance, and offers to give Cas a ride home, which he accepts. He climbs in the front passenger seat with Dean, after Sam gracefully let him have it.

“We have to take Sammy to the Roadhouse first, though,” Dean says.

Castiel turns to the back to look at Sam. “You’re not coming?” he asks, and he must sound a little disappointed, because Sam gets this apologetic look on his face.

“No, sorry,” he says. “I’m going to a barbeque with Ellen and Bobby and them.”

Dean nods. “They’re kinda close family friends of ours,” he explains. “We knew ‘em before we moved into town.”

Castiel stares at Dean. “Why didn’t you tell me they invited you? If you want to go with them instead, I’m sure everyone would understand—”

“No, no!” Dean says quickly. “I want to be with you. That’ll be fun, yeah? It’s all good.”

Castiel doesn’t want to blush at Dean’s words, but he does anyway, turning to look out the window to disguise it.

They reach the Roadhouse quickly and drop Sam off, and then turn around and start heading in the direction of Cas’ house.

“So,” Dean says. “Who’s all going? I know it’s your mom and Anna, but who else is gonna be there?”

Castiel shrugs. “Some of the neighbors, the ones my mom can actually stand. I think one guy from her work, Zachariah is gonna be there. He’s kind of annoying, just a heads-up.” Castiel’s eyebrows pull together as he thinks. “Actually, come to think of it, they’re all kind of annoying.”

Dean laughs, but Castiel is thinking hard—before, their behavior was tolerable. Castiel could make small talk and it wouldn’t kill him inside. But now, knowing their mannerisms and personalities, Castiel wants to cringe. Why the sudden change? What’s happened to him since the last time he spoke with these people? He’s sure they haven’t changed since he met them… so what’s the big deal?

He’s still frantically searching for an answer when Dean suddenly stops the car and Cas realizes that they’re in front of his house. He  undoes his seatbelt and they walk to the front door. Castiel takes out his key and lets them both inside—despite their detour to bring Sam to the Roadhouse, he’s still shown up before everyone else, including his mother.

“We’re the first ones here,” Castiel says. He turns around and looks at Dean, who’s fiddling with the buttons on his jacket. He pulls at his collar a little.

“You okay?” Castiel asks. “Did you bring a change of clothes? Wearing that suit might get a little warm.”

“I’m good,” Dean says, and he sheds his jacket. Castiel nearly has a heart attack because _Dean looks so fucking good._ He frowns a little. “I think. Still kinda hot, but you know. I’m always hot.” He waggles his eyebrows at Castiel in mock suggestiveness, which just makes Cas roll his eyes.

“Shut up, you loser,” he deadpans. He too then sheds his suit jacket, folding it over his arm and then gently setting it on the back of his chair. After a moment, Castiel looks up when he hears the front door rattling, and he sees his mother has arrived back home.

Naomi enters through the front door, talking on her cell phone. From the sound of it, she’s talking to Anna, telling her things that she needs to get at the grocery store before the guests start arriving. When she sees Dean and Castiel in the kitchen, however, she quickly ends the call to greet her son and his friend.

“Hi, Castiel,” she says to him. Castiel smiles back at her, almost like he’s telling her “thank you” for allowing Dean to come to this.

“Mom, this is Dean Winchester,” Castiel says by way of greeting. He gestures to Dean. “And Dean, this is my mother.”

“Nice to meet you, Mrs. Novak,” Dean says with a polite smile, offering out a hand.

She looks pleasantly surprised when Dean offers his hand to shake. Castiel feels a rush of indignation towards his mother—who does she think Dean _is_? _It’s not like he was raised by wolves and has no manners,_ he wants to shout at her. It would make no difference, though, anyway.

Naomi starts ordering Castiel around—telling him to move chairs, shift the tables, set out plates and utensils for people to grab. One of the neighbors is grilling the food, so Castiel prepares that for him once he arrives, and then after what feels like forever, the guests begin to arrive and food is being prepared, and Castiel gets to sit down and relax with Dean, who’s been keeping him company the entire time, even though Castiel forbade him from actually helping.

“Wow,” Dean says. “Lots of work for such a small gathering.” He’s right—there are not nearly as many people here as Castiel expected, considering the amount of work that he just put into that.

Castiel collapses on the couch next to Dean. “You have no idea. I feel like a pack mule. Or a donkey.”

Dean snickers. “You feel like an ass, huh?”

Castiel smacks Dean playfully on the arm. “Shut up, Winchester.”

Anna joins them a second later, flopping down on the couch in a manner similar to Castiel’s. “Who knew throwing a party for fifteen people would be so much damn work,” she mutters.

The three of them talk, Anna and Castiel telling Dean stories of their past gatherings like this. Anna tells Dean about their egg hunts from when they were little, telling the story about how Castiel got his arm stuck in the fence when trying to reach an egg, only to find out that it was an _actual_ egg—a goose’s egg to be exact, and that he’d sort of pissed off the mother goose when she returned to her nest.

Castiel likes this—being with his close family for days like today. That’s the way it should be; sadly, they only have half their family with them—

And Castiel freezes. There really is only half their family with them—his father is wherever, Michael is at college, and Gabriel… fuck, _Gabriel_ …

They haven’t spoken in months, now. They used to talk at least once a week, by phone or text message, but since his mother kicked him out, they haven’t spoken a single word to each other.

Castiel is crushed by guilt. He nearly _forgot_ about Gabriel. Ever since his mother forbade him to talk to Gabe, he’s barely thought about his brother…

Then he’s hit with a more disturbing thought: what if that was what his mother wanted?

Castiel is jerked out of his thoughts when he faintly hears Anna calling his name, and then she snaps her fingers repeatedly in his face to get his attention.

“Earth to Cas. Hey, Castiel. Cas!” Anna says loudly.

Castiel finally reacts, jumping a little. “What?” he asks.

She looks at him with a little concern. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Cas lies. “Just zoned out a bit there.”

She doesn’t seem to buy it, and neither does Dean, judging by the look on his face, but neither of them pushes Castiel for more information.

“Food’s ready,” Dean says, nodding towards the kitchen, where a large plate of hamburger patties, hot dogs and bratwursts have just been set down. A line is forming where people are going to serve themselves.

They head to the kitchen and grab their food, and then head outside to eat in the backyard. Castiel chats with Anna as they wait for Dean to join them—some of the adults in the party stopped him to speak and Castiel and Anna went off without him.

Castiel leans against the fence of the backyard while Anna stands in front of him. She looks from Dean and back to Castiel and then says, “I don’t get it.”

Castiel finishes swallowing his bite before trying to speak. “What?” he asks.

“How you and Dean became friends. It doesn’t make sense.” She shakes her head. “I mean, he’s, like, _textbook_ bad boy. Y’know, _cool_ and _mysterious_ and _flirtatious_ , and you’re…” She gestures at all of Castiel as if that explains it.

Castiel shoves at her shoulder. “Shut up,” he says, laughing. “And are you saying that I’m not cool?”

She looks at him, raising an eyebrow. “I hate to break it to you…” But then she trails off, turning her head at the sudden sound of a commotion coming from where Dean is standing, talking to the other guests of the party.

“You can’t really be oblivious to what everyone’s heard about you?” Naomi is asking. She’s talking to Dean, and the rest of the guests are staring at the exchange. Dean looks pretty pissed, but she looks surprised and very matter-of-fact, as if she can say nothing wrong in this moment. Like she’s invincible.

“And what have you heard about me?” Dean asks, his hands clenching into fists. His eyes are cold—dead, even. It’s a look he hasn’t ever seen on Dean before. He’s seen Dean angry, of course, but he’s never seen Dean like this. “Mom, stop,” Castiel says, before he can stop himself. He’s stepping away from Anna and towards the others. There’s a threat in his voice—or perhaps a promise—but Naomi barely looks at him.

“Heard that you could be a little more choosy with the people you sleep with,” she says. There’s venom in her voice. “Women, men… it doesn’t matter to you, does it?”

Dean is staring at her, his jaw working—Castiel can tell that he’s trying very hard not to lash out and say something he’ll regret, and Castiel feels a rush of appreciation towards the boy for a second before Naomi continues with her little speech.

“Of course, I understand your reasoning. Once you break one rule, why not break them all? If you’re going to have sex before marriage, why not make a show of it?”

“Mom!” Castiel shouts. This is horrific— _actually horrific_ —to watch.

She stops speaking and looks at Castiel with uncomprehending eyes, like she doesn’t understand why Castiel just shouted at her.

“What?” she asks, like she’s completely oblivious.

Castiel clenches his fists, stepping in between her and Dean like he’s breaking up a physical fight. “You have no right to say that to Dean. No right at all.”

She raises an eyebrow. “I have every right, Castiel. I have free speech, don’t I? But anyway, he’s a homosexual. The Bible says—”

“I know what the Bible says, mother!” Castiel explodes. “But are you without sin? Do you really believe that you are perfect enough to hand out judgment?”

She remains quiet, her jaw snapping shut with a click.

Castiel takes her silence as a _no_. “Then I really don’t think you should be throwing stones,” he says acidically. Castiel shakes his head, and turns around, starting to walk after Dean. The boy started walking away after Castiel stopped his mother from speaking, and he’s gone out the gate to the front of the house, and he’s probably halfway down the block right now—Castiel has to stop him.

“Dean, wait!” Castiel shouts after him. “Dean!”

He’s jogging after that boy in a full suit and nice leather shoes, but he doesn’t care. He won’t stop until he’s caught up with Dean.

The boy stops and turns, looking kind of relieved that Castiel decided to follow him. “Hey,” he greets, like nothing at all just happened back at Castiel’s house. “What are you doing? You should go back to the barbeque.”

“I wanted to see if you were okay,” Castiel says, panting only slightly. “She said very hurtful things to you. That was very rude of her. In front of all those people, too.”

Dean shakes his head. “Castiel, no offense, but your mom is a dick,” he mutters.

The statement startles a laugh out of Castiel, and then Dean laughs a little too, smiling now.

“I’m sorry, though, Dean,” Castiel says after a moment. “That was very out of line. She shouldn’t have said that.”

“I know. I just… I mean, I’ve been called out before with this kind of stuff. Hell, I’ve taken a punch or two over it, but… that really got to me for some reason, and I just…”

“I’m so sorry,” Castiel says, shaking his head. “She wasn’t the happiest that I wanted to invite you over but I never thought she would do something like that. I mean, I know she can be a little extreme, but… Dean, I’m so sorry.”

Dean just offers Castiel a small smile, one that Castiel can see the cracks in right away. “It wasn’t your fault, Cas. I should have just walked away from her. That was just…”

“Hey, it’s okay,” Castiel reassures. “She should definitely not be casting judgment, anyway. Calling out your sins like that, in front of everyone, like she’s the judge and we’re the jury.”

Dean nods, and then he seems to comprehend what Castiel has just said. He spins around until he’s facing Castiel head-on, a fire behind his eyes that wasn’t there a second ago.

“Wait, my ‘ _sins_ ,’ you said? You think it’s a sin?” Dean asks. His eyebrows are raised, and there’s anger bleeding into his voice now, and Castiel starts backing away and shrinking before he can help himself. “You think homosexuality is a _sin_.”

“Well… yeah,” Castiel says, swallowing nervously. “But that’s fine, Dean, we’re all sinners. Our sins are just different from each other’s.”

“But you…” he starts, and then bites his tongue. He turns back around, not facing Castiel anymore. Somehow it’s worse than when he wouldn’t look away. “Fine, whatever.”

His tone is angry and dismissive and Castiel can’t stand it. He doesn’t want Dean angry with him. His stomach drops to his toes, and he thinks frantically of what he can do to make this better. For some reason, he’s afraid that he’ll lose Dean if he makes him angry like this. He’s afraid that their friendship will crumble, even if it’s just one fight.

“Are you… are you angry at me?” Castiel asks, and he feels like he’s on the verge of tears. No matter what he’s angry about, he just wants to fix it. “I’m… I’m sorry, Dean, if that bothers you, I just…”

He trails off, unable to continue. Dean won’t look at him still. It’s making Castiel anxious, the way he averts his eyes.

“No, Cas,” Dean says at last. “I’m not mad at you.”

Castiel wants to cry from relief. “Oh, good,” he says. “For a second, I was afraid…” He stops his train of thought there before he can say anything embarrassing, but Dean’s already caught on and it’s too late to go back now.

“Afraid of what?” Dean asks, more gently now.

“Afraid that you wouldn’t want to be friends with me anymore,” he whispers. He can’t look at Dean now, can’t meet his eyes.

“Cas,” Dean says softly, “don’t ever think that.”

He looks like he wants to say more, but instead he just sighs looks down to the ground. “I’m gonna head home. I’m gonna have to pick up Sam soon anyway.”

“Oh,” Castiel says, his stomach flipping uncomfortably. He’s a little disappointed that his mother’s just scared Dean off, but how can he blame Dean wanting to get out of here instead of go back and possibly face her hurtful words again?

“Okay,” he says, smiling instead. “I’ll see you on Monday?”

Dean smiles, fishing his car keys out of his pocket. “You bet.”


	11. Chapter 11

He’s had fights with his mother, but never like this.

Once the guests leave, they start having at it—Naomi claims that Castiel’s defending of Dean was disrespectful towards her, and Castiel rebukes that she should never have treated Dean like that in the first place.

“I don’t understand you, Castiel,” she says, shaking her head. “You weren’t like this before you started hanging out with that Winchester boy. You used to respect me.”

That stings, but Castiel brushes it off and storms to his room.

He wants to pull his hair out. Not only did she offend Dean like that in front of all those people, but she also embarrassed Castiel. How could she be so rude? Castiel feels ashamed just to be associated with someone like that.

Anna comes in a few minutes after Castiel slammed the door to his room, looking at him with concern.

“You alright?” Anna asks.

Cas takes a shaky breath. “What’s happening to me?” he chokes out. Her face crumples in sympathy. “I didn’t use to be so… so _angry_ at her, but now it’s like she’s always getting under my skin. Whatever she does, it’s wrong in my eyes.”

She settles next to him on his bed, putting a hand on his back and rubbing slow circles, trying to calm him. “Want to know a secret?” she asks him.

Castiel sniffles, trying to get a grip on himself. “What?”

“I’ve been waiting for the day that you actually started acting like a normal damn teenager and stopped being a smaller incarnation of our father.” She smiles at him, but it’s a bitter, regretful look. “Don’t worry about it, little brother.”

He swallows the lump in his throat. “I should honor her, though, shouldn’t I?”

She rolls her eyes. “Castiel, did you see her down there? Honoring our mother or not, it’s everyone’s job to stamp out evil, and what she said to Dean down there was _wrong_.”

Castiel feels very confused about the whole thing, but he nods slowly in agreement. “It just feels like, everything she does nowadays feels wrong and looks wrong. Is it because I’ve been hanging out with Dean? I don’t…”

Anna presses her lips together. “Maybe. But, Castiel, these are problems that every teenager goes through. Being mad at their parents, changing ideals… that’s, like, _basic_ teenage behavior.”

Was it bad that Castiel didn’t want the problems of everyone else? He wanted to go back to the days where he got along with his mom better. Well, no one ever really _gets along_ with Naomi, but he wanted to go back to the days when there weren’t always angry at each other like this.

But, like everything else that’s happening in his life now, Castiel pushes it aside and decides to deal with it later.

+++

On Monday, Castiel finds himself sitting at lunch while he waits for Dean to join him. He looks up from his meal in time to see Dean approaching the lunch table, along with a shorter, freckled, redhead girl.

“You know Charlie Bradbury, right?” Dean asks, once they’re standing right next to the table. Castiel nods. “You mind if she sits with us?”

Castiel shakes his head. “No, I don’t mind. Be our guest.”

The two sit down and start eating in companionable silence. Castiel waits for someone to speak up and explain, but no one offers any info.

“So, how do you and Dean know each other?” Castiel asks.

Charlie looks up. “Oh, he and I both work at the Roadhouse,” she says.

Castiel looks to Dean. “I didn’t know you worked at the Roadhouse,” he says.

Dean smiles. “Well, I said I worked, didn’t I?”

Castiel shrugs. “Yeah, a while ago. Anyway,” he continues, “Why are you hanging out with us losers? Didn’t you used to hang out with Bela Talbot?” Castiel asks. Charlie nods. “Why don’t you anymore?”

Charlie takes a deep breath, as if trying to steady herself. “Because I told her I was a lesbian and she thought that I was trying to get in her pants.” She rolls her eyes. “As if I would try. She’s a bitch.”

“Oh,” Castiel says in surprise. “I didn’t know you’re…”

She raises her eyebrows. “That gonna be a problem?”

Dean scoffs. “Don’t worry about it, Charlie. He’s friends with me, isn’t he?”

Charlie and Castiel laugh. “Yeah, that’s true,” Charlie says, eyes sparkling. “I gotta admit, of all the people in this school that I thought would become besties, you two were definitely the least likely pair.”

“Why does everyone keep saying that?” Castiel asks, shaking his head. “It happened, didn’t it?”

Charlie looks at him, eyebrows raised. “Honey,” she says, “Look at Dean. And now look at yourself. And look at Dean. You two are nothing alike. Hell, he’s basically always on the verge of kicking someone’s ass, what with those boots he wears, and _you_ look like you couldn’t steal a pack of crayons from a Wal-Mart.”

Castiel scrunches up his nose indignantly. “I could _totally_ —”

“Cas,” Dean cuts in, “no, you couldn’t.”

The three of them laugh again, but Castiel stops a little short when he notices Dean—the way he laughs with his whole body, the way he throws his head back and his shoulders shake.

 

Lunch ends way sooner than Castiel feels it should. He’s glad that Charlie sat with them today, and she promises to do it again tomorrow, perhaps this time bringing a friend of her own. Castiel and Dean bid her goodbye as they stand outside Dean’s classroom.

“She was nice,” Castiel says, smiling. “She’s much more… I don’t know. I don’t know why she ever thought she belonged in that stupid group.”

Dean shrugs. “Beats me, man.” He starts to leave when Castiel impulsively reaches out and grabs his jacket sleeve, pulling him back.

“And, Dean…” he starts, but his mouth is dry. Why is it so hard to say? “I really am sorry about what happened on Sunday. If I’d known she was going to do that—”

“ _Cas_ ,” Dean interrupts. “How many times do I have to tell you it’s okay and it’s not your fault until you believe me?”

 _A million,_ Castiel wants to say. The thought of his mother’s words to Dean honestly just makes him sick. He feels burdened with it; he can’t stop apologizing, not even if he tried.

“I… I don’t know,” he stutters. “I just feel responsible. Especially since you had the opportunity to go with Sam instead of me, and I…”

Dean lays a hand on Cas’ shoulder. “Dude. It’s fine, don’t worry about it. I’ll see you tonight, right?”

Castiel nods, watching as Dean goes down the hallway and he realizes that he really ought to get to class.

+++

Dean turns to Castiel as the credits start to roll. His eyes are bright and excited, and Castiel loves when Dean gets like that, the expression on his face after he’s shown Castiel something he loves—

And, damn, he’s gotta stop that train of thought right there.

“So,” he says, nearly vibrating with excitement. “How’d you like it?”

They’d just finished watching the pilot episode of _Star Trek_ —true to his word, Dean was slowly but surely making his way through his extensive collection of movies and TV shows to introduce Castiel to. Not that Castiel minded, because it meant more time with Dean, even if it was taking up time that could be used to actually study, like he had promised his mom that he was doing.

 _“It_ is _studying,”_ Dean had said the first time he told him that. _“It’s just studying a TV screen instead of books. Now come on, this movie’s not gonna watch itself.”_

Castiel thinks about his answer for a second, before deciding on, “After seeing that, I’m confused as to why people think _I’m_ the nerd rather than you.”

Dean sighs. “We’ve been over this, Cas, it’s because you have the glasses. But that doesn’t answer my question.”

Castiel rolls his eyes. “I liked it,” he says. “I really like Mr. Spock. And Sulu.”

Dean laughs excitedly. “I knew you’d like it,” he says happily. He turns to Castiel for a second, studying his face. “You know, you actually really remind me of Spock.”

 _Because I have next to no social skills?_ “Why’s that?” he asks.

Dean shakes his head. “I don’t know. Maybe it’s the hair,” he jokes. He takes a hand and ruffles up Cas’ hair. Despite it already being messy, Castiel protests loudly to Dean doing that.

But Dean just smiles and laughs a little, and oh, he’s so beautiful… Castiel is dying for Dean to touch him—wishes that it was back in the days that Dean would touch him a lot just to rile him up, but now Dean has boundaries that he’s set for himself, at Castiel’s own stupid request… he almost wishes that Dean would defy him and flirt with him anyway, touch him anyway, rile him up anyway… but Dean’s too good of a friend to do that, so it’s a fool’s dream to even think about that.

Maybe Cas is a bit of a masochist. There’s no other explanation as to why he’d be hanging out with Dean any other way.

 _Unless_ , an evil, nasty little voice in his head says, _you’re kind of in love with him._

And they don’t say anything more, just sit in comfortable silence until Castiel realizes that time has slipped away from him and he ought to start heading home.

Oh, he’s so fucked.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, just a few notes:  
> 1\. Thank you all for your comments, kudos, and bookmarks. It really means a lot to me when you leave me one of those. As a writer, I really love comments, because they let me know how you guys feel in reaction to the story I'm writing and it honestly just fuels and motivates me. Honestly, it doesn't matter if you write me two words or a ten-page essay, I love each comment and I read them all. :D  
> 2\. School is starting for me in a week. That's definitely going to cut into my writing time, so I'm just going to warn you that updates are going to become a lot less frequent after that. :(  
> 3\. Time is going to be passing strangely in this story. While there were nine chapters in Part One of this story, there's going to be two more (including this one) for Part Two. 
> 
> Anyway, enjoy this chapter! I'm sorry it didn't come as quickly as my other updates have, but I had a relative come in from out of town and then I went to a concert yesterday. :P

Over the next few weeks, they acquire quite a group that joins them for lunch—two of them, like Charlie, work with Dean at the Roadhouse: Benny Lafitte and Jo Harvelle, the owner’s daughter. Jo works as a hostess while Benny is a waiter. The two of them are seniors, graduating very soon.

Benny reminds Castiel of a bear, and there’s no other way to put it. He has a full beard, and is slightly taller than Castiel but definitely broader in the shoulders and with more muscle. He has a Southern drawl that makes his voice smooth and sweet like honey, but there’s no doubt that Castiel has some reservations towards Benny; because he looks like he could kill Castiel by snapping him like a toothpick.

Jo, on the other hand, is the sharp as a knife and sassy as all hell, and Castiel loves her to death. She’s quick and willing to prove herself, and she bonds easily with Castiel. Jo also teases Dean mercilessly, which reminds Castiel that Jo and her mother, and probably Bobby Singer, all knew Dean and his family before he ever showed up in this town.

Kevin Tran, though, does not work at the Roadhouse, is a sophomore, and a genius. He and Charlie are nearly inseparable, having many common interests in book tastes, movie choice, and videogames. He usually looks tired, with bags under his eyes and a permanent “I couldn’t really care any less than I already do” attitude towards life, which confuses Castiel as much as it amuses him.

All in all, Castiel thanks God every day for Dean Winchester, because he couldn’t ask for a better group of friends than this.

But Castiel knows that his time with this group of friends is limited—being mid-April, Benny and Jo are graduating fairly soon, and then Castiel will see them very little as they use the summer to prepare for college.

He shakes the thoughts out of his head and returns to their present conversation over lunch.

“We’re having a party after graduation,” Jo is saying. “Y’all are invited, too, just so you know. And don’t bring gifts.” She grimaces. “God knows I’ll be getting enough of those from my family.”

“Good, I wasn’t going to get you one anyway,” Dean says, grinning. Jo smacks him on the arm. “Ow, what the fuck?”

She just rolls her eyes. “Suck it up, Winchester. Anyway, my mom just likes to plan these things way in advance, so just letting you know. It’s gonna be at the Roadhouse, and we’ve got it all to ourselves that night.”

“Damn. Sounds good to me,” Benny says, smiling.

“How many of us are going?” Castiel asks.

Jo shrugs. “There’s going to be some family, but mostly just you guys, and Ash, Garth… but that’s pretty much it.”

Castiel nods and says he will be there no matter what.

+++

The second semester starts to swallow Castiel and Dean whole, and before they know it, there’s a week until finals start.

Dean is flipping out on a daily basis, complaining that he doesn’t know the content that’s coming in his finals and that he’s going to fail. One day, mid-rant, Castiel puts a hand on his shoulder, effectively shutting him up.

“I’m hearing you, Dean, really… but have you considered… I don’t know, studying?” Castiel asks sarcastically.

Dean looks at him like he’s grown two heads. “I never study.”

“That _may_ be part of your problem, then, dude,” Charlie says from across the table.

Dean huffs. “I don’t know how to study. I’ve never really tried to before. Unless it’s just doing homework.”

Castiel smiles at him. “Don’t worry, I’ll teach you,” he says brightly. “After school, meet me in the library. We can get some studying done in there.”

“Why can’t we just study at my house?” Dean whines. He crosses his arms over his chest childishly.

“Because then you’ll convince me to take a ‘break’ and that ‘break’ will end up being two hours long while we watch another fucking _Star Wars_ movie,” Cas replies. He gives Dean a skeptic look. “I know how you work, Dean Winchester.”

+++

Dean is smarter than he’ll allow himself to say. Castiel would say that perhaps Dean doesn’t need to study, but part of him selfishly wants to keep that time with him, alone in the library, sitting side-by-side while they pour over their papers.

But time passes quickly in the second semester, and before they know it, final exams are upon them, and their time together becomes interrupted by the hordes of students with the same idea as them—studying with friends in the library. Soon enough, the rest of their group joins them, and their time alone is long forgotten.

But also, along with finals, the seniors are graduating. Jo and Benny are gone from their group immediately after finals while the rest of them must suffer through the last few weeks of school. Castiel feels their absence like a punch to the chest. He misses them both, and on the day of graduation, Castiel, Dean, Charlie, and Kevin are all in the auditorium to watch them take their diplomas.

They all cheer loudly and obnoxiously, attracting looks from the people around them, but Castiel doesn’t care. For some reason, he feels proud—even if he misses them.

+++

Jo’s graduation party is exactly what Castiel was expecting.

He was afraid his mother would say no to allowing him to go to this event, so he snuck out—something he feels immensely guilty for, but who knows when he’ll see Benny and Jo again after this summer? They’re both off to college in a few months, and Castiel wants to see them.

But, the party is exactly what he’s expected—a small sip of the punch tells him that it’s spiked by more than a few different types of alcohol, and Castiel can see that there’s smoke wafting out from under the door of the employee break room—that’s probably where Ash is, right now—and everyone, even the adults, is at least a _little_ tipsy.

Well, everyone except Castiel.

It’s fun, even if he’s not drunk to enjoy it in that sense. There’s dancing and talking, and Ellen has made enough food for ten times the amount of people that are there. Castiel thinks it’s amusing to talk to drunken people, because they laugh at everything and are generally ridiculous, but after a few hours of the same old thing, it starts to get wearying.

Most of the adults left a while ago, but Charlie, Jo, Benny, Dean, and Castiel are still there, along with a few other people from their school that they don’t know all too well.

They’re all a little drunk, save for Castiel, having had a few (read: many) cups from the punch bowl, which just got more and more potent as the evening dragged on.

Charlie is trying to talk up one of the girls from school, and she seems to be making good headway with her, because they’re both turned towards each other and absorbed in the conversation they’re having. Benny and Jo are making out in a corner booth, which is as surprising to Castiel as it was to the rest of the group, but here they are.

Dean is sitting with Castiel at a booth a few away from Benny and Jo’s, and it’s becoming late—Castiel’s phone tells him that it’s two in the morning—and Dean is only become less coherent, so Castiel decides to make good on his Designated Driver status and bring Dean home.

He rises from his seat, and Dean looks at him with glazed-over eye, not saying anything. Castiel claps a hand on Dean’s shoulder.

“Let’s get you home,” he says, pulling on Dean’s coat.

Dean just giggles. “Don’ wanna,” he slurs.

“Dean,” Castiel says. He’s trying very hard to be stern and not laugh at Dean’s behavior, but it’s tempting.

It takes a few tries, but eventually he manages to coax Dean into a standing position and throw his arm around Cas’ shoulders. They stumble to the door and out into the night, Cas huffing under Dean’s weight. The boy does little to help Cas’ predicament, especially when Dean decides to make Castiel go the scenic route through the park, instead of telling him where the Impala is located directly.

“Dean, we have to get you _home_ ,” Castiel says, once Dean stops them in the middle of the park, staring upwards at the sky.

But Dean isn’t listening, instead choosing to lie down in the grass. “Righ’ here. Here’s… good,” he says. He collapses on the ground.

Castiel considers grabbing the boy and dragging him to his car, but the Impala is god-knows-where, and Castiel definitely does not have the strength to drag Dean anyway.

He sighs in defeat and lies down next to Dean, staring at the sky. There’s barely any light pollution to speak of in their small town, so the view of the stars is great—there’s not a cloud in the sky, and stars are bright and defined.

“You’re a dumbass,” Castiel says once he’s settled on the ground next to Dean. “That punch was spiked to all hell and you just kept _drinking_ it.”

Dean giggles. “I know.”

A blanket of quiet settles over the two of them. The stars look beautiful, white dots in a sea of blackness, darkness. Castiel always liked to look at the stars, because it reminds him of how small he is—of how big everything else is, of how he should seem unimportant, but _isn’t_ unimportant, not when it comes to family, or friends, or God.

“Do you ever get lonely?” Dean whispers next to him.

Castiel turns his head, tearing his eyes away from the heavens and looking at Dean. Somehow, the views aren’t so different from one another.

It’s a strange question, but Dean’s drunk, so Castiel decides to humor him. “Yeah,” Castiel answers, equally quiet. Talking loudly, even when they seem to be the only two people in the world, would shatter the moment. “Sometimes.”

Dean shifts in his spot, raising his arms only to interlock his fingers and tuck them behind his head, a pillow.

“What about you?” Castiel asks, smiling a little. “Do you get lonely?”

Dean shrugs. “Yeah,” he says, chuckling breathily. “More often than you’d think.”

Castiel laughs a little. “Why didn’t you take one of them home?” Castiel asks, teasing. Well, trying to _sound_ teasing. He mostly sounds accusatory. “One of those girls in the Roadhouse? Any one of them would’ve said yes.”

Dean could have picked any one of those girls up, easy. Even without Dean’s reputation at school, his charm is hard to deny, and he really is beautiful. Castiel knows that better than anyone.

But Dean just shakes his head. “That’s not what I want, Cas,” he whispers. “Stupid, pointless, one-night stands. With people that I won’t even remember their names in the morning. Don’t want that.”

It’s a brutally honest answer, one that knocks the wind right out of Castiel. It almost feels like that stupid game they played all those weeks ago—with all those questions that they answered and one that Castiel couldn’t.

_“What’s one thing you’ve never told anyone?”_

Dean huffs a bitter laugh, the sound pulling Castiel from his thoughts. “That’s all I’m good for, ‘s just not what I want.”

Castiel’s eyes soften. “Then what _do_ you want?” he whispers.

“I want…” He seems to struggle with his words, trying to string them together in a way that makes sense in his alcohol-drowned mind. After a long moment, he just says, “I want forever.”

He thinks he feels his heart break.

“Why… why ain’t I good enough for that?” Dean asks after a second. His voice cracks and wavers like he’s on the verge of crying.

“Dean, no, of course you’re good enough for that,” Cas says.

“Then why does no one want me, Cas?” he challenges. “How come no one wants me for the shit that _matters_?”

 _I want you_ , Castiel’s mind screams. _I want you so much it physically hurts. There’s a hole in my heart that I never noticed before you, that’s how much I want you._

“Dean… don’t… that’s not true.” He sighs. It would be so easy just to break his own rules, tell Dean what he’s really thinking, to make him feel better.

But he can’t. And he knows that.

“Why would you say that?” Castiel asks instead.

Dean rolls over and looks at Castiel’s face. “That… fucking teacher didn’t want me,” he slurs.

Castiel blinks. This is definitely not what he was expecting. “What?” he asks in confusion.

“Yeah,” Dean continues, like Castiel hadn’t interrupted him. “He didn’t want me for anythin’ _important_. Just wanted the sex. Why should—why should anyone else think different?”

The news of this hits Castiel right in the chest—of course, Dean had told Castiel that he’d had sex with that teacher on more than one occasion, but Dean makes it sound like he had a crush on him, bordering on _love_ —and that changes things.

“So you… had an actual _relationship_ with your teacher?” Castiel asks.

Dean snorts. “I wanted to. Apparently I was the only one.” He sniffles, and then continues at a lower volume, “He had a wife. An’ a daughter. I was just a hole to fuck. A warm mouth. I was there to pick of the slack his wife couldn’t.”

When Dean stops talking, Castiel rolls over and puts a hand on his cheek, cradling his face.

 _This is going a little too far,_ his brain tells him, but he doesn’t give a shit because Dean is looking at him with those green eyes, shining with unshed tears.

“That teacher,” Castiel starts, “was an absolute douchebag to use you like that. You are amazing—not just because of your looks, but because of your soul.”

Dean blinks, and two fat tears roll down either sides of his face. Dean lifts a hand and puts it on top of Castiel’s, squeezing weakly.

“You’re… it’s indescribable, Dean,” Castiel continues in a whisper. “You are… celestial.”

Dean swallows—Castiel can see the muscles working in his throat, and he wants to kiss Dean so much right now. Dean looks a little like he’s thinking the same thing, but Castiel pulls back a little, silently refusing the offer.

 _If we were going to kiss I’d want you to remember every second of it,_ Castiel thinks. Dean seems to understand and backs off.

“Thank you,” Dean whispers instead. He squeezes Castiel’s hand tighter. “Thank you.” 


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize in advance.

Dean finally directs Castiel to where they can find his car. Castiel knows that Dean very rarely lets anyone drive his car, so Castiel considers himself lucky.

It’s not a long drive, but Castiel is careful with the Impala the entire way there. Apparently he does a good job, because Dean has no protestations about his driving.

Castiel parks in the driveway of Dean’s house, and then helps walk/drag Dean up the sidewalk to his house. The boy leans heavily against his shoulder, and despite the fact that Castiel is a little concerned that Dean is too drunk to walk correctly, he likes the closeness.

Finally they get up the front porch, and Castiel helps Dean with his keys, pointing out the right one, picking them up when Dean inevitably drops them.

Dean kisses his cheek, his warm breath puffing against Castiel’s skin. Castiel freezes, still as a statue, but Dean doesn’t seem to notice. He just fumbles with his key before finally fitting it into the lock and then lets himself inside, like what just happened was a totally normal thing.

It takes a few minutes before Castiel can move.

+++

Exams start. Dean goes into school on the day after the graduation party and takes at least three finals with a hangover. Castiel doesn’t speak to him about that night, and Dean doesn’t offer up any information that he even remembers.

Final exams are a pretty easy affair, actually. Castiel passes all his exams with a B or higher, and he’s sure that this will please his mother to an extent.

When the students are let out on the last day of school, Castiel finds Dean at his locker. He knows that, despite all their studying that they’d done, Dean was worried that he wouldn’t do well.

Dean grins at him as Castiel approaches. “Nothing below a B plus,” he says happily.

Castiel beams. “That’s great, Dean!” He chuckles, adding, “With a hangover, no less. That’s impressive.”

The boy laughs. “I couldn’t remember the night before, but at least I remembered that the fucking ‘mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell’ or whatever.”

Castiel laughs abortively. His comment makes something inside him break. He doesn’t remember that night. So Dean doesn’t remember what Castiel said to him, what he might as well have _confessed_ to him? Doesn’t remember how he casually, as if nothing was awry, kissed him on the cheek? That… it feels like it should be a miracle, like a second chance perhaps, but instead it feels like betrayal.

Castiel nods towards the door. “We leaving?” he asks.

Dean nods. “Hell yes, please get me out of this shithole.”

Cas laughs loudly and starts moving towards the exit as Dean pulls his backpack over his shoulders. “So, you didn’t get kicked out,” Castiel says. “I guess that means you’ll have to be back here next year. That’s a record, right? It’s all due to me, too, I bet.”

He snorts. “I came close with the Azazel thing, but no, I didn’t get kicked out.” He sighs derisively. “And no, that’s not a record. Don’t flatter yourself.”

“Screw you, it definitely had something to do with me,” Castiel says dismissively. “Maybe my goodness is rubbing off on you, Winchester. It totally is.”

Dean shudders dramatically. “Damn, I hope not.”

+++

The June weather is absolutely awful. They spend two weeks lying on the floor of Dean’s bedroom, spread eagle, listening to a movie or the radio, waiting for the AC to kick in and cool them down. Of course, no matter how hard Dean tinkers with the air conditioning, it never gets cooler than eighty degrees in his house. Sometimes, that’s a big improvement to the outside weather.

It’s a good system, really. They sporadically do things with Charlie and Kevin—sometimes they go into the Roadhouse and see Benny and Jo. Dean, for some reason, quit his job there for the time being, so he’s usually free.

Castiel meets Dean’s father for the first time—his father works at Singer’s auto repair in town, but usually is a bounty hunter. He’s gone most of the time, but is in town for the time being. He mostly lets Sam and Dean do their own thing, which Dean appears to be fine with, but Castiel can tell that his father’s absences bother him more than he’s ready to let on.

 

They’re sitting on the floor of Dean’s room, heads tipped back and enjoying the breeze that a fan has directed towards them. The menu of a movie is making noise on Dean’s TV, but they pay it no mind as the theme music plays over and over.

“Are you going to the fair?” Castiel asks suddenly, breaking the silence that had settled between them.

Dean grunts. “What fair?”

“Town fair,” Cas explains. “We have one for the summer solstice. There’s rides and stuff.” He smiles, turning his head to look at Dean. “It’s tradition, Winchester. You are required to go.”

Dean hums like he’s considering it. “Is it extra corny?” he asks.

“Oh, yes,” Castiel assures him. “Extremely corny.”

He nods. “Sure, I’ll go,” he says. Castiel beams at him. “But if it’s not as corny as you say it’s going to be, I’m gonna throw a fit.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less,” Castiel says, smiling. “I’ll meet you here, and we can walk to it. It’s in the big meadow, fairgrounds thing right outside of town.”

“It’s a date,” Dean says, tipping his head back again to enjoy the breeze.

The butterflies in Castiel’s stomach won’t settle, his mind on a constant loop of _date date date date_.

+++

The night of the summer solstice comes two days later. Castiel’s mother permits Castiel to go out but directs him to be home at curfew and to not leave his sister’s side, which Castiel grudgingly agrees to. Anna is going to the fair, too, with some friends, and they decide that they can split up as long as they arrive back home together. They leave the house separately and agree to meet up fifteen minutes or so before curfew so they can start heading home.

Castiel feels like he’s floating as he makes his way to Dean’s house on foot.

He bounds up the steps to Dean’s porch and raps on the door with his knuckles, and then waits. He shifts from foot to foot, a little nervous, but mostly excited.

Dean answers the door and grins. “Hey, Cas,” he says.

Castiel smiles back. “Ready?” he asks.

“Of course,” he says. He grabs his leather jacket from inside before calling to Sam and his father that he’s going out. He seems to wear the leather jacket no matter the weather, so Castiel isn’t very surprised, but it’s different to see him wearing it with something that’s not the school uniform. He has to physically tear his eyes away.

The walk there is relatively short, considering that Dean lives near the edge of town. There’s stupid kiddie rides set up, metal and groaning from their age. Bright lights are set up around the perimeter, and there are vendors as far as the eye can see.

“So,” Dean says, striding in through the makeshift gates that enclose the fair. “What should we do here in this… fine establishment?”

Castiel snorts. “I don’t know about ‘fine’,” he says. “But we should get, like, ten funnel cakes.”

Dean laughs. “Five for you, five for me?”

“No, ten for me, but you pay for all of them,” Cas answers, bouncing on his toes in excitement.

Dean pushes him playfully. “You fucking dork,” he says fondly. He shakes his head. “I’ll buy you _one_ funnel cake. And you have to share with me.”

“Wow, fucking buzzkill,” Castiel mutters. Dean pushes him again.

“Another crack like that and you’re getting exactly zero funnel cakes.” His smile is softer, fonder, and it makes Castiel warm on this inside. He pulls his eyes away from Dean before they start staring too long.

 

They get a funnel cake and eat it with their fingers on a picnic table. Near them are several booth set up with games to play, prizes to win. Dean is eyeing them, sizing up which one he should play. Once he has finished his half of the funnel cake, he points behind him at the booths.

“Dare me to do one?” he asks. “I bet I could win it.”

Castiel snorts. “And win what?” he asks. “A giant teddy bear? Because you want one of those?”

“Ye of little faith,” Dean says, standing up with purpose. He strides over to the closest booth and starts talking to the person behind the counter.

Castiel wipes his hands on his jeans, effectively smearing them with powdered sugar, and jogs to catch up with Dean.

The game is nothing more than to knock over all the stacked cups with three baseballs. Of course, the cups are made of thick metal, and the ball is no doubt heavier than a regular baseball. It’s harder than it appears, but Dean pitches each ball with accuracy and manages to knock over the tower of cups in only two tries.

The man behind the booth looks amazed. “Wow, first time tonight!” he says excitedly. He grabs a small plastic bag filled with water. He hands the bag to Dean, who then turns to Castiel.

“For you,” Dean says, handing him the bag with a smug look on his face. His eyes flash with amusement when Castiel huffs a laugh in amazement. A small, orange goldfish swims around in the bag. It’s scales flash in the dim carnival lights, eyes unblinking and mouth gaping. A small smile comes to Castiel’s face as he watches it. It’s just a cheap little carnival goldfish, the ones that die within seconds of bringing them home from unknown causes or try to jump out of the bowl for no reason. Castiel’s had two of these in the past, and they lived for a week, tops, but Cas accepts it anyway, and prays to God that this one will live.

“C’mon,” Dean says when Castiel doesn’t say anything, just stares up at Dean, trying to figure out who the hell he is.

They walk for a while in silence, Dean’s hands in his pockets and a small smile on his face. He looks content, happier than he’s been in a while—and Castiel can’t help but think of how they used to hate each other, how far they’ve come in this whole thing.

Because, really, they used to not be able to _stand_ each other. Dean would say things to purposely make Castiel uncomfortable, and Castiel didn’t give a shit if Dean was hit by a bus or not.

It’s quite amazing that of all people, Dean Winchester would be the boy to become his best friend, his only true friend. It’s strange, _unbelievable_ even. Considering their pasts, their present, and even their futures, it’s quite difficult to believe that they would even look at each other twice unless it was to stare in disgust.

“Why are you doing this?” Castiel asks suddenly, staring up at him in something akin to amazement. “Months ago, I hated you, and I thought you hated me. Why the big change, all of a sudden?”

The boy stops in his tracks, looking at Castiel. He wonders how he must look to Dean—sweaty from the hot summer air, with powdered sugar all over his face and jeans, a bag with a goldfish clutched in his grip like nothing could take it away from him.

Dean is very quiet, presumably thinking over his answer. Where Castiel is smiling and awed, Dean suddenly looks nervous and cornered. His silence starts to worry Cas, and soon enough the smile slips from his face and is replaced with a concerned frown.

It’s a while before he answers.

“I really like you, Cas,” Dean whispers. “I admit in the beginning I was just trying to… you know. I was just trying to either sleep with you or annoy you. But then, after that, I started to get to know you. I start to _like_ you. As a friend. And then as… you know. Something more, potentially.”

Castiel is speechless. Of course, he always kind of knew that Dean was attracted to him, but romantic attraction is something entirely different. His heart starts beating incredibly fast, and instead of him being excited for Dean’s confession, he feels cold fingers clench around his heart. He hears a voice whispering in the back of his head, telling him that if he confesses his feelings to Dean that he’ll lose all chance of a second life, that he’ll have _failed_ as a human being, that he’ll be beyond saving.

He takes a deep breath, stepping backwards. “I’m sorry, Dean,” he whispers. “I’m not… I don’t… swing that way.” It breaks him to even say it.

Dean looks completely disbelieving of Castiel’s words. “Yeah,” he murmurs. “You’ve told me.”

Cas frowns at Dean’s flippant answer. “I’m not gay,” he insists defensively, and wonders how convincing he sounds. Probably not very.

“Cas, c’mon.” Dean doesn’t believe a word of Cas’ statement—and how could he? Dean seems to know Castiel better than he knows himself, and Castiel can’t dispute that. “I’ve seen the way you—” He cuts himself off.

Anger rises within Castiel, hot and intense. “The way I _what_ ,” he deadpans. But he knows the answer before Dean even says it.

Dean is quiet for a long moment, staring at Castiel and then turning his gaze to the ground. He doesn’t want to say it, but he’s backed himself into a corner. He hesitates a second before saying, “The way you look at me. The way you act around me. It’s different than just friendship, Cas. I’ve been around it enough to know it when I see it.”

Defensive rage fills Castiel, spreading from his heart to the tips of his fingertips. It replaces his blood, runs through his veins, and perhaps that’s why he says, “I am _not_ gay. I accept you and your lifestyle, Dean, but in _no_ way should you project it onto me.”

He spits the words out like they’re venom, and perhaps they are. He regrets the sentence as soon as it leaves his mouth, but says nothing more, because the damage is done. He waits and watches Dean’s face, crumpling at first in hurt, and then smoothing out into a blank mask—neutral and contained.

“Right,” Dean says. “My lifestyle. Right.”

A silence settles between them, thick and stifling like noxious gas. Castiel feels his phone vibrate in his pocket, and he takes it out to check whom it is. It’s Anna, asking him where he’s gone, because their curfew is soon and Anna doesn’t want to walk home alone.

Castiel thanks God for an excuse to exit this conversation. “I’m sorry,” he says, gesturing to his phone. “It’s my mom. I have to go.”

Dean flinches at the mention of Cas’ mom for whatever reason. He dismisses Castiel with a clipped, “Yeah. Bye.” And Castiel turns and leaves, the goldfish still in hand.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, it's been almost three weeks since I updated! That's really sad, considering I used to update every two or three days back during the summer. :( School is kicking my butt right now, so I won't make any promises, but I MIGHT be back to updating regularly—like, once a week or so—after this all settles back down.  
> Thank you all for being so patient, especially after I left you with such a shitty cliffhanger in the last chapter. ;) But the fun is only just getting started, my friends! And by "fun" I mean "tears."  
> Also, I barely proofread this before posting it, so don't kill me if there are awful spelling and grammar mistakes.

He’s quiet on the way home with Anna, and he feels like she can sense his foul mood. He doesn’t even understand who he’s mad at—Dean, or himself. He’s partially angry with Dean for pushing him, but angry with himself for the way he acted. Trying to justify it will do nothing—it’s very obvious that he’s attracted to Dean, no matter how hard he tries to ignore it or stifle it, and it’s very obvious that he’s just lied to Dean and insulted him all at once.

But for some strange reason, he doesn’t want to admit his thoughts and feelings to Dean. Not just because he feels it’s his mission to keep himself in check when it comes to Dean, but… there’s an undeniable, underlying _fear_ that Castiel holds when it comes to admitting himself. Fear of what, he doesn’t know, but it’s there and it’s very real.

He gets home and closes the door behind him quietly. With a large sigh, he empties his pockets onto his desk—keys, wallet, and phone—and then realizes he still has the small goldfish in his hand.

He stares at the fish in the bag, wondering if he should put the effort into giving it a place to live when it’s likely he’ll die in a few days. Should he just throw it out now, leave it to die? But that’s just stupid, he decides, so Castiel sighs and moves towards his closet. He opens it up and searches the top shelf, looking for the old fishbowl he used as a child and had one of those betta fishes.

He even has an unopened bottle of water conditioner and fish food resting at the bottom of the bowl. Setting the two bottles on the desk next to the bag, he goes to the kitchen to clean out the bowl, which is slightly dusty.

Once he’s got the bowl all set up with clean water, he sets it carefully on his desk and takes the fish out of the bag, releasing it into the bowl. He watches the fish explore the bowl for a few moments before sighing and sitting on his bed. With his luck, the fish will be dead by tomorrow after he’s done all the work to keep it alive. Just a waste of his time.

He shuts off the light and goes to sleep, fully clothed.

+++

When he wakes up the next morning, Castiel has about two moments of peace before he remembers yesterday.

He sits up in his bed, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. He doesn’t know what to do. He feels like he should apologize, but also is afraid to. How would Dean react? Would he forgive Castiel?

Anxiety makes Castiel’s stomach turn. The thought of Dean not forgiving him scares him, more than he can begin to explain.

Castiel looks up and sees the fishbowl at the edge of his desk. The fish rests at the bottom of the bowl, staring without comprehension at the wall. Cas shifts forward on his bed, staring intently into the bowl. The fish seems to still be alive, just sleeping, so that’s good. He grabs the fish food and sprinkles some into the water before getting dressed.

His thoughts immediately stray back to Dean. He should ask Anna what to do. She always seems to know what to do when it comes to drama like this, so maybe she’ll have some advice.

He bites his lip, worrying the skin. He’ll have to be extra careful in his wording—he doesn’t want to admit his feelings for Dean to her when he’s not certain how she’ll react.

After he finishes getting dressed, he goes to knock on Anna’s door. It’s almost noon, so he knows she’ll be awake. Anna is annoying cheery in the mornings and rises with the sun, whereas if Castiel rolls out of bed before eleven, it’s a miracle.

She opens the door, studying his face.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” she asks, concern replacing her previous expression.

“Can I ask advice?” He wrings his hands, struggles to make eye contact. She blinks in surprise and then nods, ushering him into her room. She goes to sit on her bed, closing the laptop she seems to have just been using, giving Castiel her full attention as he settles into her desk chair.

“So, what’s up?” she asks, leaning forward and putting her elbows on her knees. Castiel struggles with what he wants to say, and how he should say it. After a few seconds of silence, he begins to speak.

So he tells her everything—or, almost everything—beginning with how he’s sorta known that Dean’s never made it a secret that he’s attracted to Cas. He explains that he never considered that Dean would want anything more than to fuck him, but last night changed everything.

“I… got angry,” Castiel says with a wince. “I insulted him. I said that—I said that it was fine if he’s gay, or bi, whatever, but that he shouldn’t project that onto me.”

Anna stares at him, her jaw dropped. “Castiel, why would you—” she stops herself. “Okay, wow. You need to apologize. You shouldn’t have said that, and you know you shouldn’t have said that. Don’t pretend that you’re not in the wrong.”

Castiel swallows the lump in his throat. “What do I say to him after that?” he whispers. “How do I even begin?”

Her expression softens. “Castiel, I know this is difficult. But you’re in the wrong, right?” He nods, and she takes that as her cue to continue. “Then just admit that. Don’t give any excuses; don’t try to make yourself feel better about the entire thing. Just tell Dean that, and you can both go from there.”

Castiel nods again. “Will you… will you give me a ride over there?” he asks, voice cracking. “I don’t…”

“Of course,” she says immediately. She smiles at him, trying to offer encouragement. “I know it’s hard. But it’ll all be okay, yeah?”

He just nods again, dumbly. Butterflies fill his stomach. He wants to throw up, he’s so fucking nervous. But he has to do this—for his sake, Dean’s sake, and their friendship’s sake. If Castiel wants to keep what he has with Dean, he needs to toughen up and talk to Dean face-to-face.

“Why don’t we go now?” Anna asks, trying to keep that kind smile on her face so that Castiel doesn’t start to panic. “Get it all out of the way, huh?”

He takes a shaky breath, releasing it slowly. “Yeah, that sounds good.”

+++

Castiel would rather that he die in a fiery car crash than to visit Dean right now. Part of his thoughts are screaming _it’s too soon, it’s too soon to see him right now_ , while the other half is saying, _it’s too late, it’s too late to fix things anyway_.

He hates confrontation, hates it so much—but he knows that this is unavoidable, inevitable. He needs to see Dean right now. He must.

When Anna and Castiel arrive at Dean’s house, Castiel sits in the passenger seat for a few seconds, just staring up at the house. He feels so fucking sick that he feels like if he gets out of the car he’s going to throw up on the side of the road.

“Go on,” Anna is saying. “You need to do this, Castiel, c’mon.”

And, yeah, okay, so she’s right. That doesn’t mean Castiel wants to do it.

He slowly opens the car door, deliberately taking deep, slow breaths so he doesn’t start hyperventilating.

He tells himself that he’s being a drama queen and that there’s no reason to be freaking out. He’s friends with Dean—they should be able to sort this out. Right?

Even though he tells himself that, he can’t shake the feeling of wrongness in his stomach.

He approaches the door slowly. When he finally makes it onto the porch, it takes him three tries to actually knock on the door.

When Dean answers the door, he doesn’t offer any warm welcomings. Just leans on the doorframe and says, “Yeah?”

Castiel’s mouth goes dry. “Um, hey,” he says awkwardly.

The boy doesn’t say anything, just stares until Castiel continues.

“I’m sorry,” he says, sincerity in his voice. “About yesterday. That was… wrong of me to say that.”

“Yeah,” Dean says. “Kinda was.”

They both fall silent. Castiel doesn’t say, _I’m sorry; it’s just that my parents would be so angry if they found out_ , because he’s not done trying to fix himself yet.

“Is there… is there anyway you could forgive me?” Castiel asks. He sounds desperate, like he’s begging for Dean’s forgiveness. And while he is, he doesn’t want to show how vulnerable he is in this, how much he needs Dean. “That we could… you know, go back to how things were?”

Dean sighs, crossing his arms over his chest. “I dunno. I’ll have to think on it. For a while.”

Well, that’s better than _no_ , at least. Castiel swallows the lump in his throat. “Okay. Um… when will you have an answer?” Dean raises his eyebrows, as if to say, _when I damn well wish to_ , but Castiel rushes to add on, “I was just wondering. I don’t want to keep waiting all my life, Dean, I just… yeah.”

Dean sighs. “The first day of school,” he says, his voice pinched and annoyed. “Okay? I’ll give you my answer then.”

Castiel’s heart hurts when he hears Dean’s snappish tone aimed towards him, but he says nothing. The first day of school is a long ways away, but he can wait for Dean. He can be patient.

“Yeah,” he says. His voice is meek, quiet. “Okay, first day of—”

“Dean,” another voice behind Dean calls, “do you know where I put my phone? I thought I—oh. Hi, Castiel.”

“Samandriel?” he asks in surprise. He didn’t even know Dean and Samandriel know each other, other than the incident with Azazel. He’s can’t even think of a time he saw Dean and Samandriel talking, besides that time.

The boy in question is wearing only his boxers. His neck is bruised and his hair is messy like someone was running their hands through it, and—oh.

Dean gives Samandriel a look, and Samandriel just waves at Castiel and moves out of his line of sight. Dean turns back to Cas, a pained, annoyed look on his face.

“I think you should go,” he says, his voice hard and rude. Castiel blinks, still trying to process this information—but Dean’s tone leaves no room for argument.

“Oh,” Castiel breathes. “Okay. I’ll… see you.”

+++

It’s a difficult drive back home. He wants to cry, but he doesn’t believe that he deserves that luxury. Anna casts worried looks in his direction, but Castiel just stares ahead in the car while she drives them back to their home.

She tries to console him. “I didn’t think that would happen, Castiel,” she says, once the door is locked. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t—”

“It’s fine,” Castiel says, trying for a smile. It looks more like a grimace, truth be told. “He said he’d have his answer in August. And that’s not a no, right?”

Anna presses her lips together in a thin line and turns onto their street.

When he—at last—makes it back to his room, he takes care in shutting the door, making sure that little to no sound is emitted when he closes the door all the way and turns the lock.

_What is it he’s feeling?_

Betrayal? No, he’s not allowed to feel that. Not after what he said to Dean.

Why would he even feel that anyway? Castiel made it clear, perhaps too clear, that they are just friends.

Or, _were_ just friends.

That’s the thought that sends him spiraling downwards. He takes in a shuddering breath, trying to stop the tears as they start to fall, cascading down his face and finally soaking into the collar of his shirt.

What is happening to him? Why is it happening to him? He did everything correctly and still he’s being punished for it.

How could he have _done_ this? How has he managed to fuck things up like this, fuck things up so bad that it’s questionable that their relationship is salvageable?

He let Dean slip away from him. He had a best friend for the first time in his life and he let him slip through his fingers—no, he _pushed Dean away_ , which is ten times worse, because that makes him the cause of his own downfall.

He sits down at the edge of his bed, burying his head in his hands as loud sobs wrack his body. He wants to break into pieces. He deserves to be broken.

 _So what if Dean fucked Samandriel?_ he asks himself. It’s not like they were ever a pair. It’s not like Cas didn’t make it clear that they were just supposed to remain friends. _So what?_ So what?

So what?

+++

Summer drags on—the heat unbearable even on the best of days. Castiel gets a job at the general store, using work as an escape from the mess in his mind. He’s glad that he has the job, because without it he’d be at home, torturing himself with his thoughts. Even though works sucks sometimes, it’s a welcome distraction.

When he’s forced to go home, though, is where the trouble begins.

He lies awake at night thinking of nothing or everything. His thoughts revolve around or stray to Dean often—how he’s feeling, what he’s up to…

More than once Castiel has to stop himself from reaching to his phone to give Dean a call or shoot him a text. He’s not allowed to do that—not yet. Maybe not ever.

He tosses and turns, but his bed isn’t comfortable anymore. At night, he tries to sleep, and even though he’s exhausted, he can’t get his eyes to shut.

So he lies awake.

He does things with Charlie, Kevin, Jo, and Benny, but without Dean, the days are long and uneventful. Cas spends most of his time around the house, because he knows that in a smaller town like this, he’s bound to run into Dean sooner or later, and he doesn’t want to have to deal with that.

His group of friends, that he had been so close to during the year, slowly forgets about him until no one offers to do things with him, and they act polite and avert their eyes when they happen to come into the store when he’s working.

He wonders if they were true friends of his or if they were just people that he saw five days a week. Maybe they just hung out with him because he was friends with Dean, and now Dean’s told them all the awful things Castiel said to him and they don’t want anything to do with him.

It’s plausible, he thinks. They don’t want anything to do with him, and suddenly being alone doesn’t have quite the same appeal as it did back in the winter, before this madness took Castiel life and made him irreparable.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry :(

** PART THREE: FEALLAN **

+++

The first day of school arrives. It’s hot and still feels like it should be summer break, not the beginning of a long school year. Castiel wants nothing more than to go home and sit in front of the air conditioner, holding his arms out and blasting cold air on his body, accepting it like a blessing.

Castiel arrives sooner than expected to his first period class that day. He has theology first, with Sister Sands, and he chooses a seat close to the front. Anna shares this class with him, and they’re talking about nothing much when Castiel feels a tap on his shoulder.

“Happy late birthday, Cas,” says a voice to his right. Castiel looks over and sees Samandriel, offering a polite smile and eyes that look… pleading. “And you, too, Anna,” he adds as an afterthought.

Castiel returns the politeness. “Thank you,” he says, with a small smile. “And thank you for remembering.”

He wants to grab that boy and shake him by the shoulders, get angry and scream at him. But he also wants to _be_ him, because he knows what he’s done with Dean.

Thoughts and images run through his head, making him clench his hands into fists. Are Samandriel and Dean dating now? Or was that just a one-time thing? A meaningless fling? A meaningless fling that was still somehow more important than Dean’s feelings for Castiel—

Turning his eyes back to the front of the room, he relaxes his muscles, telling himself that it’s pointless to feel this way. It won’t change anything, it won’t make Dean like him again, it won’t do a damn thing except torture Castiel half out of his mind.

He’s so—so _jealous_ , and he’s felt that emotion once before in his life that he can remember, and both times have revolved around Dean Winchester.

It doesn’t make sense. This irrational hatred sprouted so fast, but it’s kept throughout almost the entire summer. Ever since he talked with Dean after the fair.

Almost two months without Dean. He’s hoping to see him today, make things right. He hadn’t realized it at the time, but Dean had been the best friend that he’s ever had, and Castiel’s not ready to let go of that.

+++

It’s third period that he sees Dean, but it feels like he’s waited ten years. He bounces his knee under the table with impatience. He doesn’t want to wait anymore, wants closure.

He’s filled with excitement and anxiety in equal measures; the prospect of having his friend back after so long makes him happy, but the idea of rejection scares him beyond all measure. What if Dean has decided that he doesn’t want anything to do with him? What then? And if he does want to be friends with Cas again, will things be the same?

His heart rate speeds up and he has to wipe the sweat from his hands off on his slacks. God, he’s so nervous, so fucking scared—but he can’t delay it any longer, and to be honest, he wants the closure more than he wants to ignorance of Dean’s choice.

The scene is almost the exact same from when Cas met Dean all those months ago, back in January: Castiel sits in the back, there’s a few open seats, one of which is next to him. He saved that seat in a fit of optimism, and he hopes like hell that he made the right choice.

Now he’s starting to regret that choice. What if Dean sees it and thinks that Cas is being too presumptuous, too cocky? If Dean doesn’t sit there, it’ll just show the entire world how Dean and Castiel aren’t friends anymore, how Castiel clings too tightly to the boy even after he’s gone. He’s just a loner, a nobody, a person who drives away the people that decide to take pity on him and become friends with him.

Cas looks up as Dean enters the classroom, and he can feel the tension in his body starting to seep away as Dean starts walking down the aisle. He’s sitting up straighter, about to call the boy’s name, alert him to sit next to him. For a second, it’s almost like he’s forgotten the past few months—Dean’s still his friend, and this is what they do.

The words start to form in his mouth; he feels Dean’s name on his tongue, tastes the sweetness that comes with it. His greeting is just about to leave his lips. He opens his mouth, gathers his breath.

But then Dean turns a few rows in front of Castiel and takes the open seat next to Bela Talbot.

It feels like Castiel has been kicked in the stomach. The air leaves his lungs with a pitiful exhale. His heart breaks and shatters, pieces scattered around his chest cavity.

Bela looks up in surprise at first, but her shocked expression is soon replaced by a flirty smile with smug, victorious undertones. Dean smiles right back at her, sly and cocky, his old self. Bela scoots her set closer by and inch, almost undetectable, but Castiel sees.

He wants to tell himself that maybe it’s a mistake, maybe Dean didn’t see him, and therefore didn’t know that they could sit together. But then Dean glances back to catch Castiel staring, and turns around the instant their gazes meet.

Castiel drops his head, going back to staring at his blank, open notebook.

Dean knew, alright.

+++

At lunch the next period, Dean sits with Bela and her wild pack of giggling girls.

Castiel sits alone at lunch, Anna instead choosing to sit with some of her friends. She invites Cas to join them, but he declines with a polite smile, saying that he’s fine by himself. Anna gives him a strange look, but leaves him be.

He wants to be alone. Not because he likes being alone, oh no. Because he deserves to be alone, after what he did.

He pushes his food around on his plate. His appetite has left him, even though he didn’t eat breakfast this morning.

Dean chose someone else.

These are the consequences, he thinks to himself. These are the consequences of disgusting actions. Some people get punished in hell. But Castiel is a special case—he gets his punishment on earth, a taste of the suffering that he’ll have to endure later.

Why couldn’t he have just kept his fucking mouth shut? Why did he have to ask Dean a question he already vaguely knew the answer to? Why couldn’t he have just gone with it, controlled himself?

Maybe he’s some sort of masochist, he thinks, staring at the lunch table with Dean and Bela. Dean is grinning, Bela looks particularly smug. He digs his fingernails into his palm when he sees Dean lean over and whisper something in Bela’s ear, something that makes her laugh and push him playfully.

He moves his gaze to another table—Kevin and Charlie’s. They’re the only two occupants of that table, in an animated conversation with just the two of them. Charlie laughs at something Kevin says, and a moment later they’re joined by a tall, gangly looking boy with dirty blond hair. Garth, Castiel thinks his name is. Castiel has never talked to him before, but from what he’s heard, Garth is a bit of a drifter, but with a sweet heart and good intentions.

He turns away, staring back at his tray. He needs to focus on himself, not spy on the people around him. He should go to confession soon, get all this off his chest. Clean out his soul, rearrange the thoughts in his head.

For some reason, though, the idea sickens him instead of making him feel better. Why should he go to confession just to make himself feel better? What an awful thing to do, rid himself of guilt just because he doesn’t like the feeling.

After thirty minutes of staring at his lunch tray, he dumps his uneaten food in the trash and leaves the cafeteria. The constant chatter of all the students around him has started to annoy him, like he’s being watched at all times.

He should just be alone.

+++

Castiel finds that he has more classes with Dean than he does without him. He watches Dean pick someone else over Castiel every time. If Castiel hadn’t gotten the message Dean was trying to send the first time, he’s sure as hell gotten it by now.

It’s his fault he feels this way, really.

It’s painful, at first, watching Dean choose someone else over Castiel over and over again. But by day three, Castiel is starting to get used to it. Soon enough, he thinks, he’ll be numb to the treatment—like when people hold ice to the skin long enough.

Bela Talbot, Aaron Bass, Meg Masters, and Becky Rosen—all the people Dean sits with in his classes with Castiel. Castiel simultaneously hates them and wishes he were all of them.

 

The next few weeks seem to blend and blur together. Time is a concept that he doesn’t seem to grasp or understand. The dates are all meaningless, the only thing distinguishing the days are the weekends between work days.

For some reason nothing feels like it used to. The tasks that used to fill him with life before seem pointless now, and it’s frustrating that he suddenly has just lost interest in the things that he loved for years. Reading is a chore. School isn’t as exciting as it was before. Going to church has just gotten annoying. Work is a bother, so he quits on the excuse that it’s cutting into his time for homework. The only thing that he hasn’t tired of is taking care of that stupid fucking fish, for whichever reason hasn’t died yet.

He has no appetite. His mother and Anna practically have to force him to eat at dinner, which he does so reluctantly. Lunch, though, he skips altogether.

He tells himself that it’s his fault that he feels like this. He was too optimistic the first day, too selfish and presumptuous. He just expected Dean to come back after the awful thing he said, and now this is his punishment. Shouldn’t have gotten his hopes up. Should have realized that Dean is his own person that can make his own decisions, and he doesn’t get a part in saying what Dean should and shouldn’t do.

What he said to Dean was wrong, and Dean—who is proud of who he is, and isn’t afraid to hide his sexuality—saw that as an attack to a part of his identity. If it had been Dean that said that to Castiel, he would have done the same thing. Right?

The answer isn’t clear on that one.

But he understands why Dean did it. He gets it. Even if Castiel wouldn’t do the same thing, he gets it. The only reason why Castiel wouldn’t have done the same thing is because of how he feels about Dean—

No. It’s stupid, making himself the martyr, feeling sorry for himself. Yes, he loves Dean, but the doesn’t mean that he can just throw himself a pity party when Dean doesn’t love him back. He was fine being almost friendless. He was fine being a social outcast. Why can’t he just revert to that stage before he met Dean?

He needs Dean now. Dean made him realize that his life was missing something—a friend, a person to talk about nothing and everything to. Dean filled him up with love, and left, and it’s killing him.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, a little warning for some disturbing stuff later on in the chapter: [Hover here for spoilery details.](x) If you don't want to read that then just skip the dream sequence altogether. (Fun fact: that dream is heavily based off of a dream that I had a few weeks before I started writing this. Just fyi.)
> 
> Also, sorry I'm taking so long to update. I didn't even TRY to proofread this one. School sucks ass and for a few days I didn't even have a laptop to write with. :( But we got that problem sorted out and now I have a new one. :) Maybe that will give me a chance to write more. Anyway, enjoy the chapter! Or not, since it's really angsty. Either way.

Castiel has always been able to distract himself with his mind. Anna thinks it’s strange that he’s able to do that, but to Castiel it’s just always been the case. He wonders what it’s like in other people’s heads—his head is always working, even when nothing is happening, his mind is rushing about.

At a time like this, it’s maddening. All he wants is for his mind to be blank, to think about nothing. But the only time he’s been able to achieve that is in the final moments before he finally dives into sleep, the last seconds before he breaches the surface of awareness and unconsciousness.

Thinking of nothing doesn’t work, so he works hard to feel nothing, to not care. Perhaps it will work, perhaps he will heal from this. Or maybe he won’t, and he just won’t care.

The strange thing about not feeling anything is that few people seem to understand the concept. People who still feel things completely misunderstand, and think that your happiness is just something that you’ve misplaced when in all reality, it’s shriveled up and died within you like a plant that hasn’t been watered, and no amounts of fertilizer or water can bring it back to the state it once was.

It’s exciting, Castiel thinks at first, to feel nothing. Emotions only hindered him in the past, now he can finally move on from the pain that emotions caused him. And maybe it’s petty, but he wants Dean to look at him and know that his cold shoulder can’t hurt him, that Castiel doesn’t care that Dean has abandoned him. He has better things to do than worry about that.

Days turn into weeks, summer slipping effortlessly into autumn. Bela and Dean are getting closer to each other. It would take an idiot not to see how the two have experienced a shift in their relationship. They can barely keep their hands and eyes off each other.

Castiel can see them from his spot in the back row. Before, he would have felt the extreme jealousy that came with watching someone else put their hands on Dean. Now, he only feels nothing—nothing, and a strong sense that he deserves this.

He sits in the back row in every single class except for the one with Anna in early morning. It’s interesting, to sit in the back—he can see everyone and everything that goes on.

Pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose, he watches as Bela Talbot leans to whisper something in Dean’s ear. Dean smirks at her, that fake, plastic smile that he’s adopted when in her company. Or maybe it’s not fake. Maybe it’s completely genuine. Cas just knows that it’s not the same smile that he always had when he was around Castiel.

+++

Castiel goes home that night and half-asses his homework right before bed. Half of the answers are missing on his math homework, and he barely read the chapter that he’s supposed to for English.

Part of him thinks that he ought to try harder. He needs to start thinking about college, and giving up will most definitely turn any sane recruiter away in a heartbeat.

Except he can’t bring himself to even care.

Thinking about his future is difficult. When people ask him, “where do you see yourself in ten years?” he has to think too long and too hard on the question. It’s like there’s a fog in his mind that only allows him to see a few years in the future at most. After that he hits a wall—almost like he can’t imagine why he’d still be alive in ten years.

He ignores the heaviness that that thought brings him and goes to bed early.

+++

_He’s in the church, staring at the large crucifix above the altar. He doesn’t sit in the pews; instead he stands, strangely barefoot, in the center aisle. Everything is quiet, but the silence is charged. The calm before the storm._

_He studies the crucifix with an intensity that he hasn’t tried to before. Perhaps because it is the only thing to look at in the church. Jesus’ arms outstretched as if welcoming him inside. Head bowed to look him in the eye. Light shining on Him as if Heaven itself is looking down on Him in favor._

_A noise behind him makes him jump—the sound of the heavy church doors closing with a bang. He doesn’t turn around, feeling like it would shatter the illusion. Footsteps echo in the church, getting louder as the newcomer approaches him._

_Suddenly the footsteps stop, right behind him. Castiel holds his breath, waiting for what’s about to happen._

_A rough hand grabs his shoulder._

_“Kneel before the Lord, Castiel. Didn’t I teach you manners?” his mother’s voice says. She forces him to his knees, pushing down hard on his shoulder. Castiel gives in easily, but her grip doesn’t ease up until his head is bowed and his hands are clasped together._

_He expects her to kneel next to him, but she remains standing. She’s silent and remains out of his line of sight. His hands start to shake, afraid of what she’s going to do. He’s not really sure that he’s felt actual, true fear until this moment, and he’s terrified._

_“You thought I would find out?” she says finally._

_Castiel’s hands shake_ _harder. “Find out what?” he asks. His voice is nearly a whisper, afraid to speak any louder._

_She strikes him on the back of the head, hard enough that he has to catch himself with his palms before his face hits the floor. He gasps, reaching back to grab the spot where she struck him, but she shrieks at him to keep his hands folded._

_“Don’t play dumb with me, Castiel!” she growls at him. “You thought I wouldn’t find out that you’re in love with that Winchester boy? That—that sodomite?”_

_Castiel’s breath catches. A million questions run through his head—how did she find out? Did someone tell her? Did someone see Dean that night, drunk and loose, when he kissed Castiel on the cheek? Or were eyes watching when Dean stopped him in the church, leaned in dangerously close once they had thought everyone had gone?_

_His whole body starts to shake. He’s not even friends with Dean anymore, why is he still fucking with Castiel’s life like this? Why can’t Castiel just get over him and forget him, why can’t Castiel fix himself, why is he so broken—_

_Tears well up in his eyes despite himself. “I’m—I’m_ sorry _—”_

_“Don’t,” she interrupts. “Don’t try to apologize.” Her voice is low and dangerous, and Castiel honestly fears that she’s going to hurt him again, or kill him, even—but instead she continues to speak after a brief moment of hesitation._

_“Say what you are,” she commands him. When he doesn’t answer right away, she grabs a fistful of his hair and yanks his head up to direct his gaze to the crucifix above the altar. “Do it, Castiel!”_

_Tears stream from the corners of his eyes. “I’m…” He swallows the lump in his throat so he can continue. “I’m a sinner…” His voice is quiet, subdued._

_“And?” she prompts. She almost sounds bored, and it makes Castiel cry harder._

_“And I deserve to die,” he answers, voice trembling with sobs._

_“Again,” she commands. There’s smug satisfaction in her voice. “Louder this time.”_

_“I’m a sinner, and I deserve to die,” he repeats, louder, voice shaking._

_“Again.”_

_“I’m a sinner, and I deserve to die.”_

_“Keep going.”_

_He clasps his hands so tight, he begins to feel pain bloom in his palms, but he doesn’t dare stop his chanting in case his mother strikes him again._

_Suddenly the pain is all over his body, unimaginable pain in astronomical amounts. He feels warm wetness in his palms only to see that his hands are bleeding, blood running down his arms. Sweat, dirt, and blood drip into his eyes. There’s a sharp pain in his forehead._

_His heart pumps faster, fluttering in his chest like a bird, beating a bruise into his ribcage. Oh, everything hurts… a pain blooms in his side, just under his ribcage. He coughs, interrupting his own chanting, and he tastes blood in his mouth._

_The words die on his lips as he lifts his hand to find a crown of thorns upon his head. He brings his hand down to stare at it, only to find a nail embedded in each palm, stained red with blood and rusting with age._

_He screams._

+++

He wakes up.

Legs tangled in the sheets where he struggled against them. Tears cooling on his face. Heart beating wildly in his chest.

Shoving the blankets off himself, he lies back in bed and stares at the ceiling. He’s broken out into a cold sweat, which is a really uncomfortable sensation, he realizes.

He’s never had a nightmare like that before. Never. Part of him feels blasphemous for even _subconsciously_ thinking it.

He tosses around in his bed for a few moments, unable to get comfortable. What is wrong with him? Why would he dream that? Part of him wonders if this is punishment, or if the dream was strangely prophetic. It can’t be, though. Perhaps it is just his conscience rebelling against him. He hasn’t gone to confession in so long.

Heart beating too fast, still. Still drenched in sweat. He feels disgusting, dirty. He holds up his hands, and in the dim lights he studies them. His nails are chewed, and his cuticles leave something to be desired, but no wounds. No broken bones. No rusty nails.

He runs his hand over his side, probing lightly with his fingertips just under his ribs. He pulls his hand back, studying. No blood. No pain. He’s completely fine.

The darkness of his room presses against him, suffocating him. He jumps out of bed and flips on the light and notices the time on his alarm clock. It’s almost three in the morning, and he feels more awake than he has in weeks.

He paces his room, back and forth, nervous energy coursing through him like electricity. He’s so fucking scared. He wants to talk to somebody about it, but who? The only person in the world that he could talk to about this dream hates his fucking guts.

He’s alone.

Fresh tears sprout in Castiel’s eyes, because he just doesn’t know what to do. He’s alone, he’s so fucking alone, and worse than that, he’s _lonely_ , and he just wants someone in the world to not hate him like he hates himself. Bowing his head, he lets the tears fall where they may. On his hands, streaming down to soak into his collar, running parallel with his nose to catch on his lip.

He deserves this. He deserves to be alone, after what he’s done. After how he lusted. After he said those things to Dean. After how he failed God, and himself. Why does he even fight it?

A flash of light makes him look up.

It’s the goldfish, its scales reflecting the light from his lamp as it swims in the water. That fucking goldfish. The last thing Dean gave to him. The only piece of his friend that he has left.

The sight of that fish, alive against all odds, makes all the energy suddenly leave Castiel as if physically snatched from him. The tears dry in his eyes, and he turns off the lights and crawls back into bed.

The darkness doesn’t feel so stifling anymore. In fact, he welcomes it. But he never gets back to sleep.

+++

He drags his feet the next day at school, only there because he felt like with how his performance is, he doesn’t deserve to miss a day of school because of a stupid nightmare.

But upon arriving home, he realizes it’s a Friday night and he’s alone with his mother while Anna does something with a friend. It’s been awhile since he’s been alone with her, and it’s awkward for the both of them.

Castiel kind of shut her out after the things she said to Dean at Easter, and so far their conversations haven’t been so much conversations as just an exchange of words.

Nevertheless, he has nothing better to do, so he helps her prepare dinner, because he wants to be better and he might as well start by doing this with her. He hopes and prays that she won’t try to make conversation, but then of course, she does.

“How’s… um, how’s Dean?” she asks. Her voice is halting and unsure—it’s like she doesn’t even know what to do with her son, like she doesn’t know him. That makes Castiel feel a little guilty—it’s not like they were very close, but at least they knew how to speak to each other before. It’s like they’re total strangers now.

 _But_ , Castiel thinks to himself, _at least she's trying. At least she's trying to show concern for her child, however disconnected she's become in the last few months. It's more than nothing. It's better than nothing._

 _Something_ has got to be better than nothing, right?

Castiel swallows the lump in his throat, stiffening at the mention of the boy. He feels nervous around her because of the tension that built when he was still friends with Dean and the added tension of the nightmare that Castiel had yesterday night. He’s almost scared to speak to her, but he forces himself to get the words out.

“Dean and I aren’t really speaking these days,” he says, voice flat and emotionless. _It’s better than nothing_ , he reasons with himself.

“Oh,” she says, surprised. Castiel thinks she’s going to drop it, but then she does something very surprising: she turns to him, putting a hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry, Castiel,” she says, and that sounds like actual sympathy, what the fuck.

“I know you liked him, Castiel,” she continues, “and I know you didn’t like the way I spoke of him. But I think it’s better this way. I was afraid that he was going to hurt you, and…” She searches his face, eyes darting over his expression. “... It looks like he already did.”

It’s the most comforting thing she’s said to him in a long while. Hell, it’s the most comforting that she’s said to him, _ever._ For a moment, Castiel forgets that she just flat-out said _I told you so_ to him and revels in her care, because that’s what he craves right now—someone to care for him. To give a shit about him.

“You were right,” Castiel says. His voice is just above a whisper, but Naomi still hears it. His voice cracks a little bit, and he clears his throat to cover it, but it’s too late—his eyes are beginning to water, tears brimming. She looks sympathetic—her eyes are awash in it, her very skin bleeds it. “He was trouble, you saw it better than I.”

“Oh, Castiel,” she says, tilting her head to the side. Her eyes are wide and sad, shining in the light.

She drops the knife that she was using to chop peppers, and holds out her arms in welcoming, and Castiel rushes into them without even a second thought.


	17. Chapter 17

The nightmares don’t stop. It’s the same one, over and over, but Castiel doesn’t think he should _fear_ his mother because of something his subconscious made up, so he ignores that.

What’s becoming a problem, though, is that he’s finding less and less comfort in the goldfish when he wakes up in the middle of the night. Instead of comfort, it seems to mock him, a reminder of Dean and all the problems that Castiel has tied to him.

But, for a while, things are good between him and his mother. They talk a lot—more than they have in years, and Castiel is starting to _like_ his mother as well as love her.

But there’s a small part of Castiel that is nasty and selfish, and he hates thinks it’s an unfair trade—give up Dean to get his mother.

He just leaves it for now, though. Beggars can’t be choosers, and Castiel is on his damn knees.

+++

Castiel is subdued in class the day after a particularly nasty night. He was too afraid to fall back asleep, so he lied in bed until his alarm went off in the morning. The dream seemed especially bad tonight, for some reason. He woke up with his hands clenched into fists, fingernails digging into his skin. The red marks in the middle of his palm had struck a chord. If he had drawn blood, Castiel doesn’t know what he would have done.

As a result of his lack of sleep, he grabs the wrong things on his way to class in the morning. When Ms. Mosely tells him to take out the homework from the day before, Castiel searches for several minutes before realizing that it must be in his locker.

When she walks around checking people’s homework, Castiel looks up and says, “I’m sorry, I grabbed the wrong binder. Could I go to my locker and grab it? I’ll be quick.”

Miss Mosley looks at him with concern, her dark brown eyes warm like melted chocolate. “Are you alright, Castiel?”

Cas blinks and tilts his head to the side, just a bit, surprised by the question. “What do you mean?” he asks, shifting in his seat a little under her gaze.

“You’ve been a little out of it for a while now. Is everything okay?”

He rubs at the back of his neck, nervous energy making him restless. “I’m sorry. I didn’t get a lot of sleep last night. I’ll try to be more zoned-in than I have been.”

That’s not what she meant, and Castiel knows it. Miss Mosley doesn’t look convinced either way, but she assures him that she is always around to talk if he needs help. Castiel thanks her and makes his way out of the classroom. He’s made up his mind before she’s even finished speaking that he’s never going to ask for her help.

When Castiel exits the classroom, he starts heading towards his locker while the door swings shut behind him at a sluggish pace. He stops dead in his tracks, though, when he sees Dean Winchester.

He’s kissing Bela Talbot.

She has her back against the lockers, and Dean is in front of her. His hands rest at the spot just above her elbows, and her hands wander from his head, to his chest, to his neck, to his waist. They can’t seem to find one spot to rest, or perhaps she just wants to feel all of him.

Castiel would be the same way, he thinks.

Dean jumps away from her when he hears the door to the classroom close, and he looks over to see Castiel staring at him. Cas tears his eyes away the second their gazes meet, and has to restrain himself from running past them down the hall to his locker. He can feel Dean’s eyes on him the entire time.

Castiel was wrong. It’s not nothing that he feels, it’s _emptiness_. He feels empty. He feels so fucking empty that he’ll do anything to fill the abyss within him, but instead he’s tried to make himself feel empty so he can just ignore it.

Seeing Bela and Dean kissing shouldn’t make things worse. It should make things better. Right? It should just make it easier to move on.

_Dean’s not mine, and I’m not Dean’s._

He repeats that phrase like a mantra in his head, trying to convince himself that it’s true. He wants it to be true. He needs it to be true.

_Dean’s not mine, and I’m not Dean’s. Dean’s not mine, and I’m not Dean’s._

But he knows that he’s lying to himself. Every time he sees Dean with someone else, flirting with Bela, or just in the classroom, he is reminded of the harsh truth. The reality of it all, the pain that it causes, makes Castiel want to leave, to move far away so he can forget all about Dean Winchester. He wants to go back to the time when Dean wasn’t a part of his life, or at least to the time when Castiel hated him and Dean’s one purpose was to torture Castiel.

Perhaps that is still his purpose—to torture Castiel.

He’s been deluding himself the entire time.

_Dean’s not mine, but I’m Dean’s._

How horrible the discovery is.

+++

Lunch is an awful affair. He doesn’t want to be there at all. He picks at his food, cutting it into small pieces, and thinks.

He doesn’t know why he was so upset seeing Dean and Bela like that. It’s not like he hasn’t seen it coming. It’s pretty obvious that they were getting closer, everyone can see that they’re into each other.

It’s not even that Castiel is jealous. He’s just… empty. It was like the last bit of his hope was snatched away when he saw that.

Dean had told Castiel how much he didn’t like her. It’s almost like he’s saying, _I’d rather be with this horribly self-absorbed girl than be friends with you._

In the midst of his thoughts, he almost doesn’t see how Anna approaches his table with business written across her expression. She takes a seat beside Castiel as if it’s old times and they were both still each other’s best friends as well as their greatest protector.

“Castiel,” Anna says, and Castiel knows that tone. That tone means that he’s in trouble.

He glances up to meet her eyes. “Hey, Anna,” he says. His voice is neutral, giving nothing away. If he has to play dumb, then he will. He pushes his fries around on his tray.

“Cas.” Her voice is scolding, and Castiel shrinks into his chair on instinct, trying to make himself as small as possible. “What’s the meaning of all this?”

“All what?” Castiel asks, feigning disinterest.

“You’ve been acting strangely since the first day of school,” she says, leaning back in her chair. “And today you look particularly awful. I’m tired of this, and I want to know what’s going on.”

Castiel winces. He’s been found out, and there’s no fixing it. The conversation was going to happen eventually, but why does it have to happen right this second.

“This isn’t a good time,” he says, voice hard. He doesn’t look up to meet her glare.

She huffs a sigh, looks off to the side, and seemingly makes a decision. “It’s about Dean, isn’t it?” she asks.

Castiel tenses at the mention of his name, his stomach rolling in uncomfortable somersaults. _Yes,_ he wants to say. _Yes, it is, it always has been, thank you for noticing, thank you for seeing—_

“Anna. Please,” he says. Begs. Pleads. He doesn’t want to talk about this. No, more than that—he _can’t_ talk about this. Not here, not now, in front of all these people. He’ll have a breakdown. He’ll cry the ugly tears that he’s been stifling under the cold, emotionless demeanor that he’s built up.

“No, Cas, you’ve been putting this off for months,” she presses. “I’m not going to watch my little brother waste away because he doesn’t want to share what’s eating at him. Just _tell_ me.”

“You don’t get it, do you?” Castiel snaps. He wants her to leave him alone. Why won’t she just leave him alone?

“No, I don’t, because you haven’t talked to me in a fucking decade!” she retorts.

Castiel huffs an angry breath. “You don’t get it. You have friends. You have _friends_ , plural. I only had one, and I fucking _hurt_ him and _insulted_ him and _pushed him away_ and now he doesn’t want anything to do with me. That was my fault. I’m—I’m angry at him for choosing someone else over me, but in the end, how can I fucking blame him? How can I blame him after what I said?”

“Castiel…” Anna says, trailing off. She’s not looking at him, no—she’s staring somewhere behind him, so Cas turns around to see what she’s looking at.

He catches Dean staring at him with wide, shocked eyes. He expression tells him that Dean heard everything that was just said.

Castiel’s heart sinks. He begins the flush from embarrassment, angry tears springing into his eyes.

He breaks eye contact with Dean and starts to stand, gathering his things in a hurry. “I have to go.”

“Wait, Cas—”

But he’s already gone, already pushing open the cafeteria doors.

He half-expects Dean to follow him, or maybe he just wishes that Dean would. He wishes that Dean would follow him and take pity on him, realize how pathetic Cas is without him and have mercy.

He waits. And he waits. Long after he’s stopped crying and the tears on his face have dried and the only evidence of his grief are his red-rimmed eyes and blotchy face.

But Dean doesn’t come. Castiel waits, sitting in the hallway by his locker, until lunch period is almost over and he ought to start gathering his things for his next class.

Oh, God, he’s going to have to see Dean in class. He’s going to have to _face_ Dean after this, after running out and hiding, like the coward he is—getting caught up in daydreams and wishful thinking, alone in the hallways of this godforsaken high school.

+++

He can feel Dean’s eyes on him.

In class, in the hallways—he can tell Dean is staring, but Castiel hasn’t been brave enough to return his gaze, not even once. So he just goes along with it, pretending that this afternoon never happened. He ignores Dean and goes about his business, because that’s what Dean wanted, right? For Castiel to leave him alone? For them to not be friends anymore?

He’s so _embarrassed_. He admitted out loud, for Dean Winchester’s ears to hear, that he is vulnerable and needy and friendless. Well, it’s pretty obvious that he’s friendless, but still. Admitting it out loud just means that it’s real. He can’t delude Dean into thinking that _yeah, I’m alone, but I_ want _to be alone._

The end of the day arrives before he knows it. He goes to his locker and starts getting ready for his return home, his movements robotic. He does this every day, automatic, and it’s good for him. No bumps in the road, no surprise outcomes. Just the same schedule, every single day. Anna is, as usual, already gone by the time Castiel gets done packing up his things to go home. She’s with some friends that she’s hanging out with again, so they don’t walk home together anymore.

Castiel wonders when she got friends besides him. The two of them used to hang out with each other, day after day like clockwork, in their own little untouchable bubble. So much, that people would make jokes about them. Now she’s like a social butterfly, out with friends, meeting new people, while Castiel is just the same as he was a year ago. Friendless. Awkward.

She must have started doing that when he was hanging out with Dean so much. He’s hit with a bout of guilt that he pretty much abandoned her in favor of Dean Winchester—a friendship that didn’t even last a year. What a dick he is.

He’s putting his things in his locker when he hears Dean’s voice down the hall. He perks up, his body thinking before his mind can catch up, and he’s turning to search out the boy’s voice.

Dean’s quite a few lockers down, talking to Charlie Bradbury. He looks desperate, and Cas wonders why they’re talking. He hasn’t seen Dean talk to Charlie in forever… not since graduation, when Benny, Charlie, Jo, Kevin, Dean and Castiel had all gotten together to celebrate.

But it’s not his business. So he carries on.

Castiel shoulders his backpack, closes his locker, and turns around. Head down, he accidentally bumps into someone walking in his same direction.

An apology is forming on his lips, but he’s cut off.

“Would you watch where you’re going?” Bela snaps at him, she pulls her bag up more securely on her shoulder, shooting him a dirty look.

Castiel blinks in surprise. “I’m sorry—”

“No, shut up. I don’t care,” she snaps. Castiel stares without comprehension, taken aback by her sudden hostility. What has Castiel ever said directly to her to make her treat him this way? He just looks at her as she turns and starts walking away, unable to find the words he wants to say to her as she storms off.

But then she spins on her heel and turns around, having changed her mind. She’s not finished with him. Castiel braces himself to perhaps curse her out, perhaps try to be the bigger man—he hasn’t decided yet.

“And for the record,” she adds, speaking in a lower voice than before, “stay away from Dean Winchester.”

 _What?_ Does that even need saying? Castiel draws his eyebrows together in confusion. “We’re not… We’re not even friends,” he says.

She laughs like that’s the funniest thing she’s heard all day, fake and abrupt. “Don’t play dumb with me,” she threatens, her voice intense and dangerous. “He talks about you all the time. I _know_ there’s something going on.”

She’s talking to him as if he’s some stupid child, which he knows he’s not. Anger flares within him, threatening to boil over. He has to control himself and not lash out.

Castiel sets his jaw. If she thinks that anything is happening between him and Dean anymore, she’s the stupid one, not him. “We’re not—” he starts.

“He’s mine, okay?” she interrupts. The anger in Castiel burns that much hotter. “Do you get that? Or do I need to repeat it for you?”

“Okay, look,” Castiel says, a hard, condescending edge to his voice. “I don’t know who you think you are, but _nothing_ is happening between Dean and me, got it? Nothing. Do you need me to repeat that for you?”

Bela glares at him, about to open her mouth to say something when the two of them are interrupted. Castiel feels the smug satisfaction of getting the last word, but his stomach drops when he realizes who it is.

“Bela,” says a voice behind Castiel. “Is something going on?”

Castiel stiffens. He doesn’t even need to turn around to know that it’s Dean speaking. He turns away as Dean approaches, unable to look him in the eye.

“No, nothing! Bye, Cas!” she says, her voice too-sweet. She links her arm with Dean’s and throws Castiel a smug look, a look that says, _You won the battle, but I won the war, and here are my spoils._

His jaw clenches, teeth grinding together. He fucking _hates_ Bela Talbot. He watches as they leave, glued to the spot. He doesn’t miss how Dean turns around once to glance back at Castiel, only to turn back when he sees Castiel already looking.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things get better! Or, at least in my opinion they do.  
> I barely proofread this at all, so if there's like an unfinished sentence in here or some weird placement, PLEASE tell me so I don't feel like too much of an idiot that I posted this monstrosity.

Things aren’t _good_ , per se, but they’re bearable, he thinks. A little more bearable than they were. He has his mother back, and his grades are as good as they’ve ever been. He has Naomi’s approval because of that, and that’s all he’s ever wanted.

What more could he ask for? He should be grateful with what he already has.

The next day is brutal nonetheless. A chill is in the air as autumn has started to slip slowly into winter. He focuses with everything he has on his schoolwork—taking prestigious notes, asking more questions than usual. He doesn’t even look Dean Winchester’s direction when he has class with him. He doesn’t show up to the cafeteria at all.

Castiel drives himself crazy thinking over the words Bela Talbot said to him, confused and frustrated more often than not.

While Bela may be an absolute bitch at the best of times, she’s not stupid. Not even a little bit. Hell, she’s every bit as smart as Dean is. Obviously she’s wrong about Dean and him Doing Things and such, but… she doesn’t think that for no reason.

_Stay away from Dean Winchester._

_I_ know _there’s something going on._

_He talks about you all the time._

What is he saying about Castiel? What does he talk about?

If one thing is for sure, Bela feels threatened by Castiel. So much that she would tell him to stay away from Dean.

What does that mean? Perhaps… that Dean doesn’t hate Castiel like he had originally thought? That’s strangely comforting to Castiel, that Dean is as reluctant to let go of their friendship as Castiel is. Perhaps that means Dean is willing to forgive him — no. That’s a dangerous thought, one that Castiel spent too much time getting over. He can’t go back on all that progress — he owes it to himself to get over it.

There are other, less savory possibilities… the possibility that Dean perhaps insinuated something that made Bela think they were having an affair of some kind. Castiel’s stomach drops at the thought. He hopes he’s right in thinking that Dean isn’t the type to spread rumors to get revenge.

Either way, Bela _knows_ Castiel’s attraction to Dean. If that secret get out…

God, the _consequences_. He doesn’t want to dwell on it.

+++

The window lets in light from a streetlamp outside, on the other side of the street. It’s late, or perhaps early—he’s woken up from another nightmare, staring up at the ceiling of his room. It’s a strange sensation altogether, really. His body fears what his mind doesn’t anymore, his heart hammering against his ribs, a cold sweat uncomfortable on his skin. But his mind is clear and calm, even if his hands shake. He doesn’t panic anymore; he’s too used to it by now.

He automatically goes to search for his glasses before he remembers that he switched to contacts recently. He sighs and drops his hand from his bedside table.

His head won’t let him sleep, though. So he gets up and leaves his room with the intent of going to the bathroom to possibly get a sleeping pill, when he notices that the lights are on downstairs.

Frowning, he stumbles down the stairs, his legs still wobbly from sleep. He holds tightly onto the rail, searching for a reason as to why the lights might still be on.

He notices his mother at the kitchen table, slumped over documents spread out on the table. A cup of coffee sits close by, untouched and cold. He blinks in surprise and looks at the clock on the wall — it’s nearly three in the morning.

She doesn’t turn around when he approaches, and he knows that she’s asleep, her head resting in her palm.

“Mom?” Castiel says. He voice feels too loud for the still house. He approaches slowly and pokes her arm to wake her. “Mom, wake up.”

Her eyes snap open. “Wha — what?” she says, her voice rough with sleep.

“It’s late,” is all Castiel says.

“What?” his mother asks groggily, not listening. She looks around her, figuring out her surroundings. “Oh!” Castiel takes a step back, letting her gather her bearings. She’s suddenly struck with a bout of panic, and she starts grabbing the papers around her, rushing to hide them.

“What are you doing?” he asks, curiosity making him bold. “It’s three in the morning.”

“Nothing,” she says quickly. She stacks the papers in a sloppy pile. Her movements are rushed and jerky, and Castiel wonders what she was looking at. He decides with reluctance that it’s none of his business. “Just… figuring out something. Your father…” She shakes her head. “Why are you awake? It’s late.”

Castiel stares at her. His father? “I was just…”

“Well, go to bed,” she interrupts. “You have school in the morning, don’t you?”

With her papers under her arm, she stands abruptly and exits the kitchen, escaping to her bedroom upstairs. Castiel stands there, shocked and confused, for just a few moments more, before following her upstairs and making his way back to his own room. There’s no way that he’s going to get back to sleep now.

+++

Castiel sits in the library alone, at a study table by himself. His homework is spread out around him, cluttering the workspace.

He sees someone approaching his table from out of the corner of his eye, and hunches in on himself, trying to make himself smaller than he is. It doesn’t deter this newcomer, though—quite the opposite.

“Have room for one more?” asks a familiar voice.

Castiel looks up and meets the affable stare of Charlie Bradbury. She’s smiling at him in her usual cheery way, but there’s something a little strange about it… an underlying current of sadness that her mask can’t cover altogether.

Castiel swallows the lump in his throat, no words forthcoming. This is a surprise. Didn’t he see Dean just talking to her yesterday? Didn’t he tell her what a fucking asshole Castiel is?

Instead of asking that, though, Cas just gestures, speechless, to the chair beside him in acquiesce.

She sits across from him, smiling wide, opening her backpack to fish out her books. Castiel scrambles to make room for her, unsure of what to say and desperate to make himself look busy.

Soon enough, Kevin Tran makes his way over to the table and sits down next to Charlie.

“Hey, Cas,” Kevin says, friendly as ever. He takes his place next to them like nothing has even happened, like Castiel hadn’t disappeared from their lives for a few month, hadn’t distanced himself until finally their friendship dissolved like salt in water.

They chat amicably with him, and Castiel wonders if this is some strange fever dream because they are honestly pretending as if nothing has happened, and it _doesn’t make any sense at all_.

They walk out of the library together when they hear the bell ring, Charlie chattering away. When Dean passes them in the hallway, Bela hanging off his arm and surround by at least seven other girls, Cas has to suppress the urge to roll his eyes. Charlie just shakes her head.

“He’s a bit different, isn’t he?” Charlie asks, watching Dean as he laughs at something one of Bela’s disciples just said.

Castiel couldn’t agree more. He’s got a permanent smirk on his face, but it’s all wrong—his face is pinched just a little, like he’s tense, and his movements aren’t fluid like they used to be… but Castiel brushes it off, telling himself that he’s just over-analyzing the situation again.

“Yeah,” Castiel murmurs. It makes his heart ache just to talk about Dean with another person, and it makes him realize that he hasn’t talked to anyone about the boy since the day after the fair. So much time has passed. 

+++

They meet in the library every day. Charlie and Kevin coax Castiel into showing up at the cafeteria again. He starts eating lunch again, instead of just buying food and staring at it. He knows that they’re both genuinely worried for him, but he still doesn’t understand why they suddenly decided to make their way back into his life after he had left them hanging high and dry for no reason other than the fact that Dean wasn’t talking to him anymore.

He berates himself for being such an idiot. All this, over a boy. It seems stupid in hindsight, but at the same time, he’s still not over it.

After about a week, though, none of them have addressed the elephant in the room. Castiel knows that if he doesn’t bring it up then none of them will, and Cas wants answers. So, while they’re at Castiel’s locker on a Friday, he interrupts Charlie’s constant stream of chatter with his own question.

“What are you doing, Charlie?” Castiel asks.

She pauses, just long enough for it to rule out the possibility of confusion, stretching into the realm of nervous hesitation. “What do you mean?” she asks, careful. She’s playing dumb, Castiel knows; it’s his favorite way to avoid a subject he doesn’t want to talk about.

“You know what I mean, Charlie,” he murmurs. He gives her a pointed look, but she just shakes her head, pained.

“It’s hard to explain,” she starts. “I just…”

She trails off, and Castiel doesn’t push, lets her gather her words.

“I’ve been worried about you,” she admits. “Ever since summer, you just kinda… dropped off the face of the earth.”

“Why didn’t you talk to me?” he asks. He almost sounds accusing. He doesn’t really have the right to be angry or accusatory—he stopped talking to them first, when he was first getting bad. “Sorry, that was—”

“No,” she interrupts. “You have a right to be mad. I should have talked to you, you’re right. But I told myself that everything was fine because I didn’t understand what was happening. When I saw you at school on the first day, I knew something was wrong.” She sighs in irritation. “I should have talked to you about it when I saw that. But it’d been so long…”

Castiel nods in understanding, and then smiles wryly. “Well, you’re here now. Better late than never, right?”

She shakes her head, smiling. “Thanks, Cas. I won’t do it again, okay?”

He nods once. “Okay.”

+++

It feels pretty good to have friends again. A little strange, and it definitely doesn’t fix everything, but Castiel is beginning to feel the warmth of contentedness radiating within him. A seed of hope has been planted in his heart.

It’s so easy to talk to Charlie and Kevin. Almost too easy — he has to remind himself not to give too much away, accidentally say something that he can’t take back. Not because he thinks that Charlie or Kevin won’t understand, but because he’s just… not ready to admit anything and everything yet.

The effect they’ve had on his mind is a little strange. Before, where he believed that he was broken beyond the point of fixing, the pair of them have reminded him constantly that they’re not just friends with him out of pity, or pretending for his sake — they want his company and do care about him quite a bit. He knows it’s stupid, but it’s nice to be reminded. To not let his anxiety run wild with the stupidest, most irrational fears. Charlie reminds him to eat. Kevin pesters him to do his homework. And it _works_ , because he has the motivation to do something for someone else rather than just for himself. 

There’s one thing they haven’t succeeded in, though.

“I’m not gonna do it,” Castiel insists. If Castiel is one thing, it’s stubborn, and he’s going to stand his ground in this fight.

“Come on, Cas,” Charlie says. “Anna is worried sick about you. Just one conversation, let her know that what’s going on, and we’ll get off your back about it.”

Castiel sighs. “I’ve told her I’m fine. She keeps insisting that I’m not. I don’t know how to help her. I don’t know what else to say.”

Kevin and Charlie glance at each other. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, Cas, but you are definitely _not_ okay.”

He raises an eyebrow at Kevin, crossing his arms over his chest in a defensive gesture. “I’m fine,” he insists again.

Kevin shakes his head. “You’re doing better,” he allows, “but you are far from fine.”

Castiel huffs in frustration. “This is as good as I’m gonna get,” he says, bitter. He’s eating, he’s drinking. He’s doing his homework. Hell, he even has a pretty good relationship with his mother, as well as friends. What more do they want from him? What is he doing wrong? He’s trying so hard to do well.

“I don’t know what to tell you,” Castiel says, dismissive. His tone ends the conversation right there.

Castiel hasn’t really talked to Anna ever since that day in the cafeteria. She backed off a little after that incident, probably figuring that Castiel would be angry at her for making him admit out loud his emotions, only to have Dean Winchester hear every last thing that he said.

He’s going to stand by this. Anna doesn’t need to know about anything — not now, anyway. He can handle it himself.

Except, when he gets home, Anna is there for once, waiting for him in the kitchen. He goes about his usual business, grabbing a bottle of water from the refrigerator.

“Kevin Tran talked to me today,” she says. It’s obvious that she’s trying to be casual and offhanded about it, but there’s a small shake to her voice that Castiel picks up right away.

“Did you?” Castiel says, and he can tell she knows that _he_ knows. “What did he say?”

She sighs in defeat. He closes the fridge and faces her, eyebrows raised, ready for an argument. “Cas, please,” Anna says, and it’s almost like begging.

“No,” he says firmly, and starts his way up to his room. Anna follows him, however, even when he tries to shut the door on her.

“We need to talk about this,” she says, pushing the door open and shutting it behind her. “Whatever you’re bottling up, you can tell me. You don’t have to hide anything from me, Cas, I _know_ you, and I love you.”

He sighs, more drained by this conversation as each second ticks by. “I don’t… Anna, if I told you—”

There’s a knock on the door.

 _Saved by the bell,_ Castiel thinks to himself, relief flooding his body. “Come in,” he says, loud enough so that the newcomer can hear him.

His mother opens the door.

“Hi, mom,” Anna greets. Her voice sounds heavy and disappointed, and she throws Castiel a look that says _you’re not excused from this_ , but Castiel is happy to postpone his discussion with his sister for as long as he needs to.

Their mother’s face looks haggard. He assumes that she’s slept about as well as the night Castiel found her in the kitchen chair for the past few days. Her shoulders are turning in on themselves, making her look unusually small. She's usually so well put-together, the commanding figure of the home. But now she looks frail and weak, beaten-down.

“Mom…?” Anna starts, concern coloring her tone. She steps forward, hesitating to lay a hand on their mother’s shoulder. Naomi waves her off, and Anna retreats, standing awkwardly in the middle of the room.

“Castiel, Anna, sit down,” she says, her voice tight. “I need to talk to you two.”

+++

Castiel doesn’t know how he got here.

One minute he’s in the kitchen with his mother, listening to her “important news” that she has to tell him, and then the next he’s in his car, barreling down the highway.

A divorce, a _fucking_ _divorce_.

He passes the other cars with ease. He’s going at least 80 when the speed limit is 65, but he doesn’t care — hell, he could die in a fiery car crash right now, and he’d probably be okay with it. The outside world is just a blur in his windows, and he has only just enough mindfulness to pay attention what he’s doing and not let himself go into full autopilot.

He wants to get out of here, wants to be away from her, from his entire family. He hates this, he _fucking_ hates it.

Not even in the sense that his parents are splitting up. He could have probably seen that coming; it’s not a surprise. He hasn’t seen his father in months. The only correspondence he has with his family are the monthly checks in the mail — Castiel laughs, because how could he have not guessed that those were child support? — and his mother has been awake more than usual, staying up in the middle of the nights figuring out paperwork. Really, it’s obvious.

This is hypocritical. This is disgusting. He hates his mother. He hates his father. He hates himself.

She drills him and drills him with religion, ever since he was a child. He was born into this mess, and then she just goes and does what she wants because it benefits her. While he stays in the shadows. Hiding himself because he’s afraid of what she’d do if she found out he’s gay.

Castiel pulls over on the side of the highway after a long period of time, not really noticing his actions as he does them. He puts his car in park, flicks on his hazard lights, and sits there.

For the first few moments, he does nothing, just stares at the place where his keys are shoved inside his ignition. Then, he brings his hands up, and slams them down on the steering wheel. Over and over.

 _Why_? Why did his mother teach him all these values if she wasn’t going to follow through with them? What’s the point of picking and choosing what people can and can’t do? Why is it okay for her to get a divorce but not okay for Castiel to be gay?

His hands hurt. The physical pain is temporary. He doesn’t stop hitting the steering wheel, doesn’t stop punching and slamming his fists against the dash. He hates this.

After what feels like hours, he slows to a stop. He doesn’t have the strength to keep slamming his hands and fists into everything anymore, and he’s breathing heavy enough that the windows to the car are fogging up. He buries his face in his hands and lets out an angry scream, a sound that bubbles over his lips in short bursts. Frustrated tears sting his eyes, but he doesn’t let them fall. He swipes at his eyes with his sleeve, slowing his breathing down until it’s under control.

He feels something warm and wet on his hands; he looks down and realizes his knuckles are bleeding.

+++

He’s standing on the worn front porch. It’s a little more weathered than he remembers, but it’s still familiar.

His bloody hands are a poor excuse for showing up out of the blue like this. It’s a flimsy, stupid excuse, but he’s still here anyways.

This is probably a bad idea. But his inhibitions are so lowered that he couldn’t bring himself back to his car right now if he tried. He doesn’t care. He wants — he wants to be with someone right now. What could the consequences possibly be? What could be worse than what is happening to him right now?

He doesn’t want to go to Charlie. She would be too nice about it. He doesn’t want to go to Kevin. He would be too logical about it. That leaves one last option. One last _possible_ option, that is.

He rings the doorbell. A few seconds later, the door opens.

“Cas?” the boy says.

And Dean looks beautiful. Like he always does.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so so sorry for taking this long to update. I'll admit that it was partially because of school, but also partially because I had a little bit of writer's block. I've gotten that mostly sorted out right now, though! I will try my hardest that I will never take a month to update this story again.  
> Also, I'm sorry that I haven't replied to any of your guys' comments. I've read them, I swear. I just didn't really know what to say to them, lol.  
> Thank you guys so much for being patient with me. And thanks for not being too angry when I left you guys with that cliffie in the last chapter. :P

Cas gives Dean a small wave, cradling his bruised and bloody hand. Dean stares at him in total shock, first because it must be a surprise that he’s here, and second because it’s doubtless that he looks like he just went ten rounds with a brick wall and lost.

“Hi,” Castiel greets.

“What are you…” His eyes drop to Castiel’s hands. “Oh my God. You’re bleeding.”

“Yeah, well,” Castiel mutters. “That’s what happens when you punch your dashboard over and over.”

“What?” He shakes his head as if to say, _fuck it, I’ll ask later_ , and continues on. “Cas, what are you doing here?”

He just shrugs. “I… I don’t know. I want to talk to you.” Dean stares at him, green eyes unwavering in their persistent gaze. “If you want me to go—”

“No,” Dean interrupts. “Come on. I’ll fix you up.” He puts a hand on Castiel’s shoulder, ushers him inside. Dean closes the door behind him with his foot, the sound of the door slamming like a shot in the silence that has fallen over them.

He brings Cas in and sits him on the couch. Dean tells him to wait while he goes and fetches some hydrogen peroxide and bandages from the bathroom, leaving him by himself for a few moments. Probably not the best of ideas; alone with his thoughts, Cas isn’t sure if he should allow this to happen. He’s positive that if Dean gets him talking he’ll start crying again, and spill everything that he’s tucked away inside of him. He hasn’t spoken to Dean in so long. Just because he’s here now doesn’t mean that everything is fixed. Just because Dean hasn’t kicked him out yet doesn’t mean that they’re going to make up and be friends with each other again. Hell, it doesn’t even mean that they’re going to _play nice_ with each other. Maybe they’ll go back to the way things were before, and this will have been a lost cause.

Nervousness grips Castiel’s throat like a vice. He doesn’t want to go back to pretending that this never happened. He doesn’t want to pretend that he and Dean aren’t at least a little drawn to each other; like moths to a flame, they’re drawn to each other, despite the risk, despite the damage.

He needs to go. He needs to leave. This was a mistake, a huge mistake. Now he’s starting to realize just how much he missed Dean. Just being here make him feel complete, just talking to him makes him feel like he’s fitted a piece that was missing from the puzzle of his mind, his life. He’s _very_ sure that he should just turn around and leave right now, because he shouldn’t be around Dean when it’s just inevitable that he’s going to break down again, and soon. Everything is so familiar that it’s painful; this house has too many memories, good and bad—too many to count, so overwhelming—

_“Punctual as always.”_

_“What’s one thing you’ve never told anyone?”_

_“I think you should go.”_

He buries his head in his heads, trying to lower the volume of his loud thoughts. God, so many memories, so many different emotions and feelings attached—the most prominent feeling being flat-out _longing_.

Castiel stands up and is almost to the door when he hears Dean speak, having entered the room again.

“What are you doing?” Dean asks, not unkindly. “Sit down, yeah? I got the stuff.” Castiel startles at his voice and turns around, guilt written over his face.

“Cas?” Dean asks, worry in his voice. “What’s wrong?”

“I should go,” he says, finality ringing in his voice. “I shouldn’t have come here.”

Dean looks so surprised that he’s almost _scandalized_. It would be funny, in other, better circumstances. “What?” he says. “No, Cas, sit down.” His eyebrows are drawing together in confusion.

“I need to go,” Cas insists.

“Look, Cas, obviously something’s not right,” he says, a little exasperated. “You show up to my house—and that in itself is a bad sign—and then you’re bleeding, and you’re acting guilty and-and _nervous_. I’m not letting you go until you sit down and at least let me help you with your cuts.”

Castiel shifts from foot to foot. He should go. If he values his pride, he should _definitely_ go. But he can’t deny that he wants to be here. He wants to be here, so _fucking_ badly, with Dean.

“Fine,” he relents, after a deliberate pause. He goes back and sits on the couch. But his back is stiff, and his muscles tensed to run.

Dean kneels down on the floor next to him, taking Cas’ hand and setting it palm down on his knee. He pulls out bandages, white gauze. His knuckles are still bleeding a little, and his hand aches like a bitch. He hopes to God that he didn’t break anything, but he wouldn’t be surprised if he had. He was all in a frenzy, like a blind rage. Thinking about it turns his stomach, so he pushes it out of his mind for now.

He winces as Dean tenderly rearranges his fingers, spreading the digits on his knee, to where he needs them. Then the boy looks up at him, offering a small smile. “You switched to contacts,” he points out, trying to lighten the mood.

Cas nods as Dean moves to get the hydrogen peroxide from the coffee table. He puts a small amount on a paper towel and dabs it on Cas’ wounded knuckles. He yanks his hand back at the first sign of a sting with a little yelp.

Dean startles when Cas pulls his hand back. “Jesus!” the boy gasps, and then shoots Cas a pointed look. “Relax, would ya? It’s in your best interest, buddy.”

Cas is reluctant to put his hand back, but he does eventually, letting his guard down little by little. Dean sets back to work immediately. It’s almost like nothing has happened, he’s so focused.

“That bad, huh?” Dean asks with a soft voice, dabbing his knuckles with gentler precision now. Cas hisses, but doesn’t take his hand away this time.

Castiel sniffs, almost in indignance, but more because he’s trying to hide the fact that the hydrogen peroxide fucking stings and he hates it. “What do you mean, ‘that bad?’” he asks through subtly gritted teeth.

Dean glances up at him before returning to the task at hand. “I’ve broken the first commandment twice since you got here, and you haven’t said a thing.”

Cas thinks back and realizes that Dean’s right. Months ago, that would have bothered the hell out of Castiel. He thought he’d gotten more lenient with Dean during their friendship, but apparently it is still a prominent detail in Dean’s mind. One that is missing now.

He just shrugs one shoulder. “I don’t care anymore,” he says, with a simple-ness that one would use with a child when explaining a complicated concept. Just _the way it is_. Just _because_.

Dean’s eyes flick up to him once again in surprise. “ _Cas_ ,” he says, sounding like he’s winding up to a long speech about how he _should_ care because of some feel-good Hallmark bullshit that Dean doesn’t even believe in himself.

“I don’t want a lecture, Dean,” Castiel interrupts.

Dean just stares at him, his hand forgotten now that it’s wrapped up neatly. “That’s not the Castiel I know, is all,” he says.

The words aren’t meant to be hurtful. Castiel knows that. But it doesn’t stop them from making it feel like he’s been punched. Just the wrong thing to say, at this time, he guesses. Anger wells up inside him, sudden and overwhelming.

“Well, maybe I’m just not the Castiel you know anymore. _No_ , Dean,” he snaps when Dean tries to interrupt him. “I don’t care anymore. I just don’t fucking care, okay?”

Admitting that out loud seems to be the breaking point for him. Anger is gone, replaced with a crushing sadness, the rage swept away like dust swept under a rug. Still there, but out of sight. Forgotten, but still lingering under the facade. Tears well up in his eyes without his permission, and then they start to fall even after Cas tries to blink them away. He takes a breath, trying to calm himself, but it’s not working.

_Why is he even here?_

“I,” Cas says, trying to keep his voice steady. “I’m just. I don’t care anymore. I’m a horrible person. If I cared, it would… It doesn’t matter what I—”

“Hey, no. Don’t say that about yourself,” Dean says, trying to calm him. When Castiel begins shaking, small, broken gasps leaving his mouth, Dean lifts up his hands to cradle Castiel’s face, stroking the tears away with his thumbs.

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” Castiel whimpers. “I don’t—why am I—”

“Hey, it’s fine,” Dean says, soothing, running a hand over Cas’ hair. And, oh God, that just makes it worse. How can Dean stand him, just showing up at his house, taking his care and love, and then breaking down in his living room? Why hasn’t he thrown Castiel out of his house yet? He should. He should throw Castiel out, tell him that he never wants to see his face anymore.

It’s suddenly way too much to handle. The confessions just come tumbling out, and Castiel couldn’t put a stopper on this even if he tried. It’s so much, so quickly, and he’s not sure if he was ready to see Dean’s face again at this point but it’s too late because it’s _happening_.

“I’m sorry,” he cries. “Everything I did, everything I said—I was wrong to do that to you. You didn’t deserve that. I lashed out because I was scared of—of what people would think, and I hurt you.”

Dean just looks at him with sympathetic eyes, taking Castiel’s hands with his own and rubbing small circles into the skin where there are not wounds.

“No, no, it’s fine,” Dean soothes. “What’s going on? What happened?”

Castiel swallows the lump in his throat. “I threw a temper tantrum.”

The boy raises his eyebrows. “Yeah? Pretty big temper tantrum. Why’d you do it?”

Castiel swallows the lump in his throat. “I wanted to hurt,” he murmurs. _I wanted to feel something for once_ , is more like it, but he remains silent, lets Dean think about it.

The boy blinks in surprise. “Cas,” he says. “That’s. Is that the first time that you’ve…”

“Yeah.”

Dean swallows. “What happened?”

Cas sighs, pulling his eyebrows together. “My parents. Um. My mom and dad are getting a divorce.” Dean’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “And it’s not even surprising. I haven’t seen my dad in, like, a year. He never calls, never comes home, but that’s not even what I’m mad about. I just—why is it okay… why is it okay for her to get a divorce and not okay… okay for me to… like guys?”

It’s the first time he’s said it out loud, and he wants to throw up. It doesn’t matter that Dean knows, _has_ known for a while now, and that Dean is bisexual himself. Castiel wants to throw up. His heart is hammering against his ribs.

And then suddenly Dean is wrapping Castiel up in a hug that he wasn’t expecting.

“Thank you for telling me,” Dean says in his ear. “I know that must be hard for you.” Oh, how that’s an understatement. Castiel is damn near shaking within Dean’s hold on him. He can’t stop trembling. He thinks he might be on the verge of tears, but at the same time it feels like collapsing on your bed after a long, trying day.

 

It’s a while before they speak again, waiting until Cas’ breath has gone back to normal and his tears have dried.

“You good?” Dean asks.

Castiel nods against his chest. “Better,” he allows.

He feels Dean nod. “It’s good you’re here,” he says. “I’ve, um, I’ve been meaning to talk to you. We need to talk.”

Castiel nods against Dean’s chest. He doesn’t want to talk about this—he knows he’ll start crying again if they do. But it needs to happen if they ever plan on trying to sort things out between them.

Castiel closes his eyes tightly and takes a deep breath. “Say what you have to say to me, Dean. Whatever your dispute is with me, just tell me.”

Dean is silent for a while. “I know you won’t admit it,” he starts, “because you blame yourself for everything that’s happened. But… I know I pushed you too far, Cas. I know I did. You weren’t ready to come out and I was forcing you.”

“No,” Castiel says immediately. “It’s not your fault, Dean. I said that intentionally to hurt you, Dean. And that’s not right.”

Dean huffs an irritated breath. “Fine. If you’re not going to let me take the blame for that, at least let me take the blame for what happened with Samandriel.”

Castiel feels himself pale. He hadn’t even thought about Samandriel when he was on his way over here. But, thinking about it, he guesses that that’s his fault too.

“Dean…” he starts, “I don’t have the right to be jealous. Not after…”

“No, Cas,” Dean says, and his voice sounds choked-off and fragile. Castiel looks up and sees that Dean is staring down at him with tears in his eyes—not yet fallen—and his expression has broken from its angry mask. “Don’t talk like that.”

“What?” Castiel asks in confusion.

“Why aren’t you—be _angry_ with me, Cas, c’mon!”

“Why would I—”

“Because I—you—because you deserve _better_ than that!” he explodes. Castiel startles at Dean’s loud voice, pulling back a little in surprise. But Dean isn’t even finished.

“You deserve better than some guy who’ll just go out and fuck the next thing that walks on two legs because he’s _mad_ at you,” he says. “You—you said that you said that thing to intentionally hurt me? Well, I did _that_ to hurt you.”

“Dean, after what I said—”

“I know what you said!” he snaps. “And, yeah, okay, it hurt! But that’s no reason to go out and just—hurt you, every single day. For _months_. Okay? I fucked up. I _fucked up_ , Cas. Not just you. We both did.”

“Okay,” Castiel says quietly. Not exactly because he agrees with Dean, but because Dean is starting to scare him a little. He just wants Dean to stop.

Dean has never made a mistake in their relationship. That’s been all Castiel—saying the wrong things, thinking the wrong things. Dean’s never—even before they were friends—he was, he…

“Cas. We can’t just… we can’t be like this.” Dean sounds tired, worn out.

“Oh.” Cas doesn’t know what he was expecting.

“We can’t just… we can’t just _fight_ and blame it all on ourselves afterwards. At least let me take some of the responsibility. Okay? We both fucked up. Multiple times, on multiple occasions.”

Castiel just stares at him. He’s honestly shocked. If he’d had to imagine how this meeting with Dean would go, it involved him begging on his knees for forgiveness—sometimes literally—while Dean begrudgingly accepted his apology out of the goodness of his heart. It wasn’t something Castiel deserved.

He never thought it would go like this. Never like this. It was impossible to think that Dean would so willingly forgive him, and then offer to take half the blame. He can’t even comprehend it.

“Just…” Dean sighs, pulling Castiel out of his thoughts. “Promise me you won’t burden this on yourself.” He steps closer to Cas, refusing to look anywhere but his eyes. Castiel squirms under the attention.

“I won’t,” he breathes. Dean is so close. Castiel could kiss him. For once, the thought isn’t so taboo. Not only that, but it’s a _possibility_.

Castiel just assumed that Dean didn’t feel the same way anymore after all these months, but.. Dean is staring at his mouth. Self-consciously, Castiel runs his tongue across his lips, and Dean’s eyes track the movement. His heartbeat starts to pick up. God, Dean still wants him. _Dean wants him._

“Could you—” Castiel cuts himself off, clears his throat, then tries again. “You could kiss me. If you want.”

Dean’s eyes flick to Cas’ lips, and then back to his eyes. “Yeah?” he asks, amused, and Cas’ face turns bright red, but he keeps going.

“Yeah,” he confirms.

Cas’ breathing speeds up as Dean lifts his hands to cradle the sides of Cas’s face, and starts leaning in.

 _This is happening, this is actually happening._ Castiel’s eyes drift shut, bracing himself for contact—

He feels Dean suddenly change direction, lips pressing briefly against his forehead, and then retreating.

Castiel opens his eyes, staring at Dean in shock.

“What—?” he starts, confused.

“I’m sorry,” he says, and he seems genuinely embarrassed. “Too much, too soon, Cas,” he explains, and Castiel’s face heats up with a shameful blush. He looks down at the floor, unable to meet Dean’s eyes. He should have known that he’s pushing Dean too far, so soon. He’s moving too fast, he’s so _needy_ —

“Hey, no, don’t be getting shy on me,” Dean amends quickly. “Just—we should go at a steady pace, right? Nothing to be ashamed of. Just don’t want to go too fast. That would be bad for both of us.”

“Yeah.” Cas still won’t meet Dean’s eyes. He fiddles with his hands, staring at his lap.

“Hey.” He feels Dean lay a hand on his shoulder, his grasp strong and reassuring. “Look at me.”

He won’t do it. Refuses to. He’s never been in a relationship before—hell, he only had one kiss with a girl before he’s met Dean. It’s obvious that he’s inexperienced in this kind of thing, and he hopes like hell that Dean isn’t just letting him down easy—

“Castiel,” Dean says firmly. “Look at me.”

Dean’s barely ever used his full name, and it makes Cas’ head snap up in surprise more than in obedience. Dean’s hands move and cradle his face, forcing Cas to keep making eye-contact with him.

“It’s fine,” he says firmly. “Hell, if it makes you feel better, I _do_ want to kiss you. A lot.”

“Then why don’t you?” Castiel asks quietly.

He just smiles, warm and amused. “Because you know this is better for us. Besides. I’m still, uh, dating Bela Talbot.”

Castiel’s stomach drops. “Oh. Yeah.”

Dean shakes his head. “I’m sorry, Cas, I… honestly. I don’t want to be dating her.”

“Why are you?” he asks.

Dean shrugs. “She was all I deserved. And she’s really persistent.”

Castiel chuckles despite the circumstances. “Well,” he says, “I’m… can I assume that you’re going to break up with her in the near future?”

“You can bet on it,” Dean says with a smile.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I barely proofread this and am  
> very sleepy, so disregard all the stuff that makes no sense :/ . Also, I apologize.

It’s late when Castiel finally gets back home. He shuts the door quietly behind him, not wanting to disturb the silent house. He checks his phone for the time; it’s nearly eleven o’clock.

It took quite a while for Dean to convince Castiel to go back home.

“I swear to God, it’s not that I don’t want you here,” he had joked.

Castiel had pouted terrifically, but Dean eventually told him that his mother and his sister would be worried. Castiel knew that he was going to fight with his mother as soon as he got home.

It helped that Dean took Castiel’s hand in his own and kissed his wounded knuckles, just a simple brush of lips that made Castiel fucking melt on the inside. The asshole already knows how to pull Cas’ strings.

Castiel drove back home in his car, and Dean hugged him before he went inside, whispering that everything would be fine in his ear. But then they parted, and it was like Dean was taking a piece of his soul with him as he walked away.

It’s so late, now. The house is dark and silent — except for one room. He sees the light on in the kitchen, telling him his mother has stayed up. Two warring thoughts take stances in his head — go to the kitchen and face his mother, or go upstairs silently?

He goes to the kitchen.

She’s sitting at the island in the middle of the kitchen. There’s a cup of coffee sitting next to her, still steaming. She looks up when he enters. Relief is the first thing he sees on her face, and then it’s replaced by anger. But Castiel isn’t afraid of her anymore.

“Where were you?” she demands.

Castiel just shrugs, opens the refrigerator to look inside, and grabs a can of Pepsi.

His mother seethes as he pops the tab on the can. “You can’t just walk out like that and not answer your phone, Castiel,” she reprimands.

“Okay,” he says dismissively. And walks up to his room.

She doesn’t follow, which is a relief.

Part of him is appalled at his own boldness, but the other part of him is proud that he’s not taking this shit from his mother. She doesn’t deserve to tell him what’s right or wrong when she’s only out there to apparently serve herself.

It’s not even that he has anything against her for getting a divorce. It’s fine if she does — in fact, he would encourage her if she feels trapped. But the fact of the matter is that she’s a hypocrite. The only plus side to this is that she waited until Cas and Anna were eighteen so there wouldn’t be a custody struggle.

He paces around his room a little, trying to shake off the rest of the nervous energy. Then, he gets in bed and sleeps through until the morning for the first time in months.

+++

School, the next day, is the most bearable it’s ever been.

He doesn’t want to be there, but he wants to see Dean and talk about how this is going to work out between them. Plus, his family apparently has some “image” to keep up. He wants to scoff. Like their neighbors give a shit about their personal lives.

He goes about his day as normal, but he feels lighter, happier. He meets Dean’s eyes when he walks into the classroom and smiles. Dean returns his grin, but seems to be communicating something with his eyes that Cas doesn’t understand. There’s too much to be said.

Dean sits next to Bela in class, but Cas doesn’t feel the spike of jealousy towards her that he did before. He feels smug as hell, but tries to tone it down a little when he realizes that it’s not exactly the nicest thought.

Paranoia makes them sneak around. When lunch rolls around, Castiel excuses himself from the table, saying that he needs to use the restroom. He catches Dean rising from his own table just as he’s about to leave through the cafeteria doors.

He turns instead to the doors of a stairwell instead of the bathroom. They’re alone, but the sound echoes in the concrete room, so they’ll have to whisper. Dean follows him in a second later.

“Hey,” Castiel says, once the door closes. A smile spreads across his face. Dean mirrors his grin, leaning forward to take Cas’ hand and kiss his fingers.

“Hey,” Dean echoes.

“I hate sneaking around like this,” Cas says, sighing. He steps closer to Dean. “I wish I could just…” He shrugs. “I wish I could do _something_.”

“I know,” Dean says, shaking his head. “I hate it, too. But if we start suddenly hanging out again, people are gonna notice. Bela’s already suspicious as fuck. I don’t know what to do.”

Castiel nods in understanding. “I know, I know.” He looks up at Dean, stepping closer and slowly wrapping arms around his neck. “I want to be with you, though…”

Dean just smiles fondly, hands dropping to grip Castiel’s waist. “I want to be with you too, baby,” he agrees. “But we gotta keep it on the down low for right now. Okay, sweetheart?”

Cas groans, burying his head into Dean’s shirt. “Not okay. But I’ll do it.”

He can feel Dean smiling against the skin of his neck. “You’re the best, Cas,” he whispers. “And outside of school, we can do whatever we want. Mostly.”

Cas nods. “I know.”

He leans back a bit, still holding Dean close to him. His eyes fall to Dean’s lips, wanting so badly to know what they feel like against his own. They’re so close — he could just kiss him, and it would be okay. It wouldn’t be wrong, or bad, and he could just _do it_.

“I want to kiss you,” he whispers to the boy.

Dean swallows, looking around nervously. “Not here,” he whispers.

Castiel nods again. He pushes himself away from Dean, realizing that if anyone walked into the stairwell at that moment, they would be in a pretty compromising position. “You’re right,” he admits with a sigh. “But I still want to.”

That makes Dean smile — which in turn makes Castiel smile. “You are just… you’re amazing,” he grins.

The comment makes Cas blush. “Thank you.” He doesn’t know what to say. “You are also… yeah.”

“Smooth,” Dean teases, and Castiel elbows him in the ribs as they start to move towards the door in tandem.

“Come over after school,” Dean says, still smiling.

Castiel looks up at him and smiles back. “Okay.”

+++

The worst part is that they have to pretend that they don’t care about each other. Being the small school that it is, the students have probably realized that Dean and Castiel aren’t the friends that they were last year, if Dean hadn’t told them the situation himself.

Every class that they have together, Dean can’t even look at him unless it’s when he first walks into the classroom. He has to ignore Castiel every time they come into close contact. They have to leave at separate times when they try to sneak away to meet up.

Of course, though, there’s always Bela Talbot to see right through them. It’s been a week since Dean and Castiel started talking again, and she’s suspicious as fuck. It’s annoying the hell out of Castiel. She’s so worried of her high school social status that she doesn’t give a fuck what she actually does to people or what she says to them.

Dean has been taking the brunt of her abuse. She calls and texts Dean every second he’s not with her, almost like she senses that the boy is slowly slipping from her grasp. When Friday rolls around, Dean tells Castiel that he can’t take it anymore, and decides to break up with her after school, once and for all.

Castiel can’t be blamed for celebrating a little.

Cas is one of the few people in the hallway left when Dean goes up to her — and he can hear what he says to her. He’s breaking up with her, he knows that — he can hear the tone of Dean’s voice if he can’t hear the words. Dean sounds gentle and soft, trying to soften the blow even though Bela doesn’t deserve it after the treatment she’s given Dean this past week. The second the words leave Dean’s mouth, Bela is in full outrage mode.

“It’s that fucking Novak boy, isn’t it? It’s Castiel, isn’t it?” she spits. She doesn’t seem to realize that he’s _right there_. Or, she does realize, and is saying it to fuck with him.

“No, no,” Dean’s saying. “I swear, Bela—it’s nothing like that.”

She starts whispering furiously, and Castiel doesn’t catch what she says. He start packing up his things more obviously, trying not to eavesdrop as much. He looks up, though, and catches Dean whispering back furiously. He looks pissed. She cuts him off, or at least tries to, but Dean keeps speaking.

Castiel looks away. This isn’t any of his business — well, sort of. He packs up the rest of his things and starts towards the parking lot, when Bela furiously rushes past him, bumping into his shoulder in the process, not seeming to care that he drops his book.

Dean comes up behind him, bending down to help him pick up his things. There’s no one in the hallway at this point, but Castiel is sure at least a few people heard Bela’s outburst, which makes Castiel’s heartbeat race.

They go back to Dean’s house together. Sam is in the other room while Cas and Dean hang out in the living room, sitting on the couch and talking, absently watching the TV.

Castiel leans against Dean’s side, resting his head on his shoulder. He isn’t really paying attention, thoughts preoccupied with Bela Talbot. She’s a nasty girl — what if she wants revenge on Dean? Or Castiel? What if she makes up some rumor, or something like that? What if —

“Don’t worry about her,” Dean whispers, sensing Castiel’s upset. “She’s just… jealous. I don’t think she’s ever been denied something that she’s wanted before.” He smiles wryly at Castiel, turning his head ever so slightly in Cas’ direction.

Cas nods, sighing. “Well,” he says, “I’m sorry you had to be the first to do that.”

And then there’s another moment. They’re so close, so close, and it’s been a week since they technically kinda-sorta got together, and they haven’t kissed yet. Castiel figured that Dean was waiting until he broke up with Bela until he could kiss Castiel, and now Bela’s gone. He leans in—but then Dean abruptly pulls back, a nervous chuckle bubbling from his lips.

Castiel pulls back just as quickly, his face turning red. “I’m sorry,” he says. Oh, God, why is he such an idiot? “I thought—never mind.”

“No,” Dean says— _insists_ , really. “It’s not you. Really.”

He exhales sharply through his nose, stomach flipping uncomfortably within him. “Don’t you dare say that, Dean,” Castiel says, his eyes betraying him by beginning to water. “You can say how it’s not the right time all you like, and you can say _not here_ and you can say _later_ , but don’t act like I’m not at least part of the issue.”

“No. Cas,” Dean pleads. “Cas, I swear. It’s just some of my fucking issues that I have to work out. It’s not you. I mean it.”

The TV is forgotten. They’re facing each other completely on the couch, Castiel leaning a little further back now, an attempt at giving Dean space, even if it only is a couple inches.

There’s actual pain in Dean’s voice, he notices. Pain that has been straining his voice all week — something that he thought Bela was responsible for at first. But Bela isn’t an issue anymore… so it must be something else, and Castiel wants to know now.

“What is it, then, Dean?” he asks. “Please, let me help.” He tries to make his voice as gentle as possible.

His boyfriend takes a deep breath, shaky on the inhale. He looks nervous — panicked, even — but he still croaks out, “You really want to know?”

Castiel nods enthusiastically. “Yes, Dean. Of course I want to know. Please let me help you.” He shifts forward from his spot, taking Dean’s hands in his own and rubbing little circles on Dean’s knuckles. His hands are still bandaged from before, which is something that he had to explain to many people at school and make up some bullshit about it to get by, but they don’t hurt anymore. It’s just a reminder to him of how Dean helped him with he needed it. Now he can return the favor.

Dean swallows visibly. His face is downcast, and he’s a little sweaty, but he looks determined, and Castiel doesn’t want to stop him.

“I haven’t told this to anyone,” Dean whispers. “Not my dad. Not even Sam knows the whole story. Okay?”

The knowledge is actually baffling—Castiel knows how close this boy is with his brother. “Dean…” he says, about to offer Dean an out, but the boy just shakes his head.

“I can do this, Cas, I swear. I want to.”

Castiel nods, giving Dean his full attention.

“It’s about… that teacher.”

Cas just nods again, waiting for the boy to gather himself and start talking. He doesn’t want to speak until Dean is completely finished with his story.

The boy takes a deep breath, and then starts to speak. Words come flowing out, confession after confession. “My last real relationship was with that teacher,” he admits. Coughs a little to clear his throat, then keeps going with barely any hesitation. “Okay, my _only_ real relationship was with that teacher. His name was Victor. He was,” Dean shakes his head a little, hands tightening in Cas’ grasp, “I don’t know why he was a teacher. He was, like, former military guy. Don’t know what he was doing in a high school, telling kids all about science. Made no sense to me. Anyway.”

The boy smiles—ruefully or fondly, Cas can’t tell. Maybe a mixture of both. Castiel feels a spike of jealousy, but ignores the feeling for the moment—now is not the time.

He continues after a short pause, “I was the one who came onto him. I don’t know why—he was just… really sexy. And I guess I was bored. He was pretty young, too. Twenty-seven, or some shit.”

Dean shrugs. “Doesn’t matter. He caved like _that_ —” he snaps his fingers, “—and we fucked on his desk, and… I don’t know what happened. It was supposed to be a one-time thing. He had a wife and a daughter. A _two-year-old_ daughter. God, and I just…” He swipes a hand over his face in distress. “Anyway, it was supposed to be _one time_. That was supposed to be it. But then it happened again a few weeks later. And then again. And then it started getting regular. And then we started meeting up places, you know. Like cheap motels, shit like that so we wouldn’t get caught.

“He made me feel… safe,” Dean says. “Like I could let go and he would catch me. He was so good to me, Cas. He treated me well. Knew how to fuck. We became friends, even.” He looks up at Cas, guilt lining his eyes. “We never really officially called each other boyfriends or whatever. I just knew that I wasn’t seeing anyone else… or screwing any other people. I knew things were rough with his marriage. I loved him, Cas. I hate to say it, but… I did.”

Castiel’s heart _shatters_. He keeps quiet though, because Dean isn’t finished—he needs to listen, even though he doesn’t want to hear anything else about this man, this man that Dean loved.

He can tell what kind of person the boy is, _was_. He hasn’t deluded himself into thinking that Dean is a virgin. So to hear that someone was good enough to make Dean want to settle down, to fall in love… that’s big, for Dean. That’s _huge_.

The boy heaves a large sigh. “I was so stupid,” he says bitterly. “I fucking _told_ him I loved him, and for some reason expected him to feel the same.” He shakes his head. “Obviously he didn’t. I was a fucking kid to him—a _student_ , and he had a wife and a daughter. I don’t know what I was expecting—him to throw away his life for me? A fucking kid?

“And I said,” he continues, “I said, ‘if you love your wife so much, why are you fucking me? Why are we fucking more than you and your wife ever do? Why are you risking everything?’ And I _really_ shouldn’t have said that,” he scoffs bitterly, shaking his head like he can’t believe himself, “because he ended things with me and then got a divorce.”

Dean shrugs one shoulder. “It was for the best, anyway.”

Castiel stares at him, trying to comprehend what he just heard. He has so many things to say that he doesn’t even know where to start. Just keeps staring, until Dean drops his gaze, staring at his hands.

Finally, Cas whispers, “I’m not him. I swear to God, I’m not him.”

Dean looks up. “I know you’re not,” he says meekly. “Of course you’re not.”

“Is it…” His mind gives him nothing to say; takes him several seconds to gather his thoughts enough to say the sentence he wants to. “Is it because you’re with a guy again? Is that part of the problem?”

Dean shrugs. “Maybe. I haven’t been with a guy since him, so that might be part of it.”

Castiel nods. “Okay.” He swallows the lump in his throat, searching for a thought to say out loud. “I’m. I’m sorry I got mad at you. Take as much time as you need, Dean. Really. I won’t push you into it, I swear to God.”

Dean nods, smiles weakly. “That means more than you think it does,” he says.

Castiel whimpers, an embarrassing sound that he hopes Dean didn’t hear, and wraps his arms around his boyfriend, and absolutely refuses to let go.


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for taking a long time to update again. I had a really busy last two weeks, and I have finals coming up (*shudders*). I'm also working on a new project that I'm really excited about!! Sadly it's not Dean/Cas, but I'll be posting it on AO3 if you want to check it out anyway.

He owes his sister an explanation.

The two siblings have sort of banded together after their mother’s confession that she’s getting a divorce from their father. It’s not exactly that they didn’t expect it or that they’re disapproving with her, per se… they’re just very, very pissed off.

Castiel wonders how long his parents have suffered in the company of each other, and how long they’ve known that they were going to do this, but he can’t even recall them fighting all that much. Maybe it was an amicable agreement on both of their parts. Perhaps they just weren’t in love anymore.

God, is Castiel going to have to go through some bullshit therapy for this? The idea makes him want to gag.

Anna is sitting with him in his room one day after school. It’s one of the odd days that he’s not at Dean’s house. He’s begun to spend more time there than at his own home; he can’t stand to be around his mother right now, moping around waiting for the sympathy of her children. Anna and Cas are both too pissed off to give her that right now. She won’t go out in public. Won’t let the neighbors see her. Don’t want them to judge her.

Things are a little different between them now — Anna and Castiel. Castiel knows that it’s not a radical difference, but… he trusts her more now. More than he ever has before.

Cas isn’t sure what prompts him to tell her. There’s a lulling moment in the conversation, and Castiel feels the butterflies in his stomach, his heart jumping to his throat. But he wants to tell her. He _wants_ to.

“Hey, Anna,” Cas says, his throat tightening around his words.

“Hmm?” she asks softly. She’s sitting on the floor in front of his bed, and she turns and cranes her neck to look at him.

He wrings his hands, nervous energy making him restless. “Can I tell you something?” he asks, his voice getting higher in pitch. He clears his throat.

Anna nods immediately. “Of course,” she says.

“I’m… I’m… gay. I think,” he adds on, as if his own uncertainty about the topic makes it easier to swallow. He knows that it won’t in reality, but he doesn’t know any other way to handle this.

It’s quiet for a long moment.

But Anna just continues looking up at him, and then she reaches her arm over the edge of the bed to grab his hand and squeeze. “I know,” she says quietly, and gives him a small smile. “It’s okay.”

A big relieved breath rushes out of him, and he feels like a balloon, floating higher. No burden. No strings. Castiel nods, chuckles nervously. “I guess it was pretty obvious.”

Her smile grows wider. “A little. It wasn’t something I’ve known for a while, but when Dean came here… I was confused why you were so angry with him.” Her smile wavers a little, but doesn’t falter into a frown.

“Yeah,” Castiel says. “I wasn’t mad at him. Just… scared of him.”

She huffs a breath of mirth. “Well, I would be too, if I were in your position.”

“Damn fucking right, you would,” he mumbles, and that breaks the tension, gets them both laughing again. A little hysterically, but it’s still laughter nonetheless.

+++

It’s kind of like checking off a checklist. First, it was Dean. Then, his sister. Now — his friends.

Charlie is suspicious. She’ll especially want to know why he’s been acting so strangely.

She stares at Castiel from across the table, and she hasn’t blinked for a while — which, to be honest, is kinda freaking Cas out a little — like she’s trying to get a read on him.

Kevin is kinda going back and forth between the two of them — looking at Castiel trying to be all nonchalant, just reading his assigned book for class at the library table, and then looking at Charlie, whose eyes are constantly narrowing and widening again.

After they leave the library, Kevin tells him to get his shit together with Charlie. And then he walks off after giving Castiel a look.

Castiel can’t blame him, but he doesn’t know what to say to either of them. It’s obvious that he’s been sneaking around, and they deserve to know why, but he knows that Charlie doesn’t exactly trust Dean and coming out isn’t exactly something that he thinks he can say to his friends. Not just yet.

He wants to. God, he wants to — if only to get the target off his back and lift the weight off his shoulders.

And he knows they’ll be fine with it — hell, Charlie’s a lesbian and Kevin is best friends with said lesbian. There’s no doubt in his mind that they’ll be cool with it.

He just can’t bring himself to do it. So instead he waves goodbye to Kevin and goes to meet Dean in the stairwell.

When he pushes open the doors, Dean is sitting on the stairs waiting for him. The boy jumps up with a smile.

“There you are,” he says. “I thought you weren’t gonna show up for a sec there.”

Castiel returns the smile. “No. I just got caught up in the library. I’m here now.” Castiel walks towards him, getting close enough to wraps arms around his neck. He rests his head against Dean’s shoulder.

“Did you miss me?” he asks, teasing.

Dean laughs. “Psh, no. What are you talking about? I don’t even like you.”

Castiel chuckles, burying his face in the juncture between Dean’s neck and shoulder. “Shut up,” he mumbles, but the sound is muffled by Dean’s shirt.

Dean is laughing too, but then the doors to the stairwell open suddenly.

 _Fuck, fuck, fuck._ Castiel gasps and the two of them jump apart — but the damage has already been done. Whoever it is has already seen, Castiel just hopes that it’s someone that they can explain the situation to —

“ _Seriously._ ” Charlie is looking at Castiel with a disapproving stare, eyebrow raised, hands on her hips. “ _This_ is why you’ve been acting weird?” Her voice bounces off the stone walls, echoing hollowly throughout the room. Cas and Dean remain completely silent, looking back and forth between each other and Charlie as they try to figure out what to say.

Castiel swallows, wishing just a little bit that God would strike him dead at that moment. He builds his courage and says, “Charlie…”

“Come over here, Cas,” she interrupts with a long-suffering sigh. Castiel goes willingly, and follows her just outside the stairwell doors.

She stares at him, not saying a word. Her arms are crossed over her chest, eyebrows raised. Castiel gets uncomfortable with the silence, and starts to apologize, “I’m — um, I’m sorry —”

Charlie makes a noise of frustration. “You are so _predictable_!” she sighs.

“I — what?” he asks in confusion.

Her lips twist in a sort of self-deprecating smile. “I’m not mad at you, Castiel. Well — Okay, I’m a little mad.” Her face softens. “Are you sure you trust him, Cas?”

“Yeah,” Castiel says, with a soft smile. “I trust him.”

“Okay. Okay.” She exhales. “And this is — you like him, a lot. Right?”

“Yeah,” he answers. “Of course.”

She stares at him for a moment. “Okay. I’m going to have a talk with him now. Wait here.”

She goes back into the stairwell. Castiel can hear them speaking, but can’t make out any specific words.

The two of them walk out a few minutes later. Dean looks scandalized, Charlie looks calm and collected as usual.

“Okay,” she says happily. “My work here is done. Call me later, Cas.”

As she starts to walk away, Castiel gets a sudden idea and reaches out to grab her arm.  “Wait — you knew?” he asks, leaving the rest of the question unasked. But she understands.

She gives him a soft, wistful smile. “Cas, everyone can see the way you look at him.” Her eyes flick between him and Dean. “So yeah. I knew. I think the only one who didn’t know was you.”

“I knew,” Cas whispers.

Dean squeezes Cas’ arm right above his elbow. Charlie smiles at the two of them and walks into the stairwell, where she starts heading up the stairs.

When it’s just the two of them, Castiel breathes a sigh of relief, covering his head in his hands. “Oh, God. That could have been so bad,” he whines.

Dean puts his hand on his shoulder. “I’m so sorry,” he says. “That was — that couldn’t have been easy. Fuck.” The two of them are silent for a moment while Castiel gathers himself. He feels so drained of energy, he just wants to sleep for a week.

It doesn’t even make sense. It went well — everything turned out fine, but still, Castiel feels the beginnings of an anxiety attack coming on. But that doesn’t stop the way his shoulders sag, the way his feet feel heavy.

Dean looks at him, sees the way Cas’ posture is suffering and how he looks so tired. “C’mon,” he says, pulling Cas into the stairwell again. “C’mon, Cas, c’mere.”

Castiel goes without a fight.

“It’s okay,” Dean whispers. “I’m here. I’m here.”

Dean murmurs soothing things into Castiel’s hair, stroking his back. It’s about fifteen minutes until Castiel speaks again.

“You okay?” Dean asks. “You need to go to the nurse?”

Castiel shakes his head. What would he say? _Oh, sorry, I just told my best friend that I’m gay after she found me and my boyfriend in the stairwell and it kinda made me wish God would kill me._

“Do you want me to bring you home?” he asks. Castiel gulps and looks at himself. His eyes are no doubt red from tiredness, and he definitely does not want to go through the rest of the day like this. He nods, and Dean nods back, and they start their way to Dean’s car. Cas follows a step behind, subdued.

“Okay, okay,” Dean whispers. “Just a few more blocks, Cas, and then I’ll get you inside. Okay? Then we’ll do whatever you want.”

Dean pushes the speed limit, trying to get them home faster. When he pulls up to the house, Castiel quickly sends a text to Anna, telling her that he wasn’t feeling well and went home for the day with Dean. She texts him back, asking him if he’s okay, but he shoves his phone back into his pocket instead of trying to answer that question.

Dean ushers him inside the house, and the second the door closes, Castiel is wrapping his arms around Dean, needing him close as possible but also feeling like he should be alone, completely by himself. He doesn’t know what he wants, so he runs with it.

“I’m sorry, ‘m sorry,” Dean keeps saying, and Castiel wishes he would stop saying that when it’s not his fault.

“Why do you stick around?” Dean whispers into his hair. “It’s been—fuck, it’s been a month, and I still haven’t… I mean, I’m grateful that you’ve stuck around, but why? This is just — so fucking stressful for you, and you’re not getting anything out of it.” He chuckles bitterly a little at that last bit.

But that makes Castiel stop for a moment. “I’d have thought you’d have figured it out by now,” Castiel whispers, and leaves it at that.


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter is a little short, but I didn't want to make it insanely long, so I cut it off a little. The next chapter should be up fairly shortly (maybe even tomorrow!).  
> Time is going to be moving fairly quickly in this fic from here on out -- like, time-skips of a few weeks or even months. I don't want it to get confusing, so pay attention to that.  
> And again, thank you guys for all your comments and kudos. I know that I'm shit at replying to those, but I want you guys to know that I always appreciate your feedback and that I look forward to every single comment that you'll give me. You guys are my biggest motivators, and I couldn't ask for better readers.

“Wait,” Dean says.

 _That_ is Castiel’s cue that he’s said too much. And now Dean needs a moment to comprehend it all. Cas kinda hopes that the floor will open up and he’ll be swallowed by the earth, but no such prayer comes true.

“You love me?” Dean asks, looking at Castiel intently. He can’t read Dean’s expression — he’s not sure if that’s anger or disbelief clouding his features. Castiel prays again that God will just take him out— _just a little bolt of lightning, please—_

He doesn’t know what to say. _I didn’t say that_ , he could childishly point out. Take the lawyer approach. _I didn’t say that, you can’t be mad at me for something I didn’t say._ Castiel swallows hard. Asks himself again why he can’t just keep his mouth shut. “I, um—” he starts, an apology on the tip of his tongue.

“I love you, too,” Dean blurts out. He blushes immediately at the confession, looking away. Even the tips of his ears are red.

Castiel blinks. _Okay_. “You do?” There’s surprise, even a little disbelief in his voice.

“Yeah,” Dean says, starting to smile now.

“Yeah?” Castiel can’t help but grin.

“Yeah.” He clears his throat a little awkwardly. “I’m—I’m just gonna…” He steps forward and takes Cas’ face in his hands, fingers gentle. He looks nervous, but determined, as he leans in.

And then Dean is finally, _finally_ kissing him.

A small voice in his head reminds him that this is his second-ever kiss, and Castiel doesn’t know what to do, so he just opens his mouth and lets Dean lead.

What impacts Castiel the most is how _fast_ things are happening. One second, Castiel is on the verge of an anxiety attack, the next—Dean’s hands are on his waist, pulling him closer until they can’t possibly get any closer. Castiel doesn’t know what to do with his hands, first resting them on Dean’s shoulders and then moving them up to his hair. Dean’s tongue is in his mouth, and he doesn’t _know what to do with himself, fucking hell._

Then time slows down, and Castiel can feel each sensation. Heat, where Dean’s skin meets his own, under his shirt, Dean’s thumb resting just above the hemline of his jeans. The pliability of his boyfriend’s somewhat-chapped lips moving against his. A barely-there scrape of stubble against chin. The smooth, soft texture of Dean’s short-cropped hair. He pulls it just a little, and a moan rattles against Castiel’s lips. Cas smiles a little, taking note of that for later. He moves his hands again. Feels the softness of Dean’s worn t-shirt beneath his fingers. He fists his hands against his chest, not wanting to let go.

And he follows along. Learning as Dean patiently teaches him.

But then Dean breaks the kiss.

“You love me?” His eyes are wild, hair just a little frazzled where Cas was running his hands through it.

Castiel is breathing heavily, panting in their shared air. “Yeah, yeah, I love you, love you so much, Dean—”

And then Dean’s mouth is back on his.

 

An hour later finds them back on the couch in the living room, watching TV in the dark. Time spent watching the TV is punctuated with absent kissing, just because Castiel _can_ kiss Dean, which is powerful knowledge to him.

He leans into Dean, head lolling against his chest, Dean’s arm thrown over Cas’ shoulder. He thinks hard, not paying attention to whatever show is happening. Looking up to Dean’s face, he watches light patterns change and throw shadows across his face.

“What if we ran away?” Castiel asks him.

Dean looks over at him. “What do you mean?” he asks.

Castiel shifts a little, pillowing his head on Dean’s chest, listening to his heartbeat. Its steady pulse makes Castiel feel anchored. Makes him feel real.

“I mean, we pack up one day and leave town. Travel, maybe. Mostly find someplace to stay that isn’t here.”

Cas glances up to meet Dean’s eyes, which are soft with fondness. Dean leans down to kiss him once, and then pulls away.

“When I first met you, you never wanted to leave,” Dean says quietly. “Now you can’t wait to get away.”

Cas just settles back down into the crook of his arm and smiles ruefully against his chest. “I’ve learned that I’m allowed to want better,” he whispers. “That it’s okay for me to not be content with the bad hand I was dealt.”

Dean strokes gently at his hair. “You can’t just run away from your problems, Cas,” he murmurs. “They’ll catch up to you.”

“I know,” Cas sighs. “But it’s a nice thought.”

+++

After that, it’s like a dam has broken.

Castiel can’t stay away from Dean, and spends most of his time with him. They sit together at lunch, hang out after school, text each other constantly when they’re in their respective homes.

In person, Castiel can barely keep himself away from him, keep his hands off of him when they’re in the stairwell, and it’s a miracle that Castiel is able to wait a full week until he’s back at Dean’s house.

But, in the meantime, Castiel’s mother has become relentless. Always asking where Castiel is, what he’s doing, calling him on his phone only to have him ignore her calls. It’s like she has some sixth sense that she knows he’s lying to her about where he is, even though he knows that Charlie is available to cover for him.

Every time he walks in through the front door, he’s berated with questions. Stared at.

She’s suspicious.

It comes to a head one day, about two weeks later, when Dean suggests that they go to Cas’ house to hang out rather than Dean’s. It’s one of the rare times that Dean’s father is home and Dean says that he’s not sure he’ll be comfortable making out with Castiel with the knowledge that his father is in the other room. Castiel agrees that they go to his house, at first, but the second they arrive in front, he’s having second thoughts about it all.

“I don’t know if this is a good idea,” Castiel mutters, staring at the front door of his house from the passenger seat of Dean’s car. “The last she heard about you, we weren’t talking anymore.”

Dean rolls his eyes and smiles at him. “Just tell her what she wants to hear, Cas,” he says. “‘Poor Dean Winchester, he’s so fucking stupid, so I decided to dumb down the lessons that Sister Sands couldn’t teach him—’”

Castiel slaps his arm in reprimand. “Dean! Don’t you _dare_ think that I’d ever say that about you!”

But the boy only guffaws. “ _Relax_ , Cas. She doesn’t have any reason to believe that you’re lying to her, right?”

“I’m her teenage son, Dean. That’s reason enough,” he mumbles. He sighs with worry. “I think she knows,” he adds, glancing up to meet Dean’s stare. “She’s so fucking suspicious of me all the time. She won’t leave me alone. Always asking where I’m going, who I’m with.” He purses his lips. “I thought I was doing good. Not good enough, apparently.”

Dean takes his hand, stroke small circles over his knuckles. “You wanna go back to my house, then? I mean, my dad doesn’t care that we’re there. I’ll get over it.”

Castiel worries at his lip, weighing the pros and cons. Castiel is just being paranoid, he knows. But it’s hard to just ignore the fear, no matter how much Cas knows that it’s irrational.

He sighs. “We’ll say you needed a tutor,” he concedes. “Okay? That’s why I’m here with you. But if she even _looks_ like she doesn’t believe us, we leave, okay? And we don’t ever do this again.”

Dean grins. “She won’t suspect anything, Cas. Everything is going to be fine.”


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I lied when I said that I would get the chapter up earlier. Sorry about that! I had a last-minute change of heart and edited the shit out of it, and I was pretty busy seeing the new Star Wars movie like four times (fuck you, Kylo).  
> Very quick editing job, as per usual.  
> But, anyway, the chapter's up now! Enjoy. ;)

So they unbuckle their seatbelts and head inside. Castiel opens the door and walks in, Dean following in tow. Castiel suddenly gets a flashback of the last time Dean was here, on Easter Sunday when Castiel’s mom insulted and degraded his boyfriend in front of all the guests. His stomach flops uncomfortably, but he plows forward.

His mother is sitting at the breakfast bar, as per usual. She turns around when she hears the footsteps behind her.

“You’re home early,” she comments.

Castiel nods. “Yeah, I’m gonna study with Dean,” he says nonchalantly.

Her lips purse, looking between the two of them. Castiel just stands there, his mind in a panic, while trying to feign normalcy. “I didn’t know you two were friends again,” she says after a pause.

Cas shrugs. “Dean needed a tutor,” he says— _lies_. He can’t believe how easy it’s become to deceive his mother. “Signed up at the counselling office. They assigned me to him.”

“Yeah,” Dean cuts in smoothly. “Not doing so hot in math right now. But Cas knows his way around the books.” He nudges Cas with his elbow, and Cas throws a look at him, trying to keep up appearances.

She stares at them. Castiel can’t read her expression—can’t tell if she believes them or not. Eventually she tells them to help themselves to anything in the fridge and to not be too loud. Castiel nods, Dean says, “yes ma’am” in the politest tone he’s ever heard from the boy, and they both head upstairs to Cas’ room.

Castiel leads Dean inside, closing the door softly behind them. Once they’re sure that she can’t hear them, Castiel grins at his boyfriend. Dean returns the gesture.

“So…” Dean says, strolling around, looking at his surroundings. “This is Castiel Novak’s room.”

“It is indeed,” Cas says, a small smile playing on his lips. Then he turns and puts his backpack on the bed, unzipping it and pulling out his homework. “Get your books out.”

Dean looks confused. “Wait, we’re _actually_ studying?” he asks, confused.

“Yes…?” Castiel says, setting his math textbook on the bed. He drops the rest of the things he doesn’t need on the floor next to the bed.

Dean stares at him before grumbling something about Cas being a _goddamn tease_ , making Castiel raise his eyebrow. “You really _do_ have a one-track mind, huh?” he asks.

Dean just blushes to the tips of his ears and grumbles some more. Castiel rolls his eyes and makes himself comfortable on one side of the bed, gesturing for Dean to take the other side.

Eventually, the boy grabs the things he needs and settles down on the opposite side of the bed. Thinking about it, the idea that Dean would need a tutor for math is absolutely unbelievable. Dean is in a higher math class than Castiel is himself — he’s incredibly smart, even if he won’t admit it to himself. He could take any job he wanted.

The only thing that he really needs to work on is his focus. Dean is smart enough and works quickly enough that he gets _bored_ , very easily, and that’s a problem when it comes to Castiel trying to work. The boy sighs and taps his pencil off his paper, his finished work sitting in a pile in front of him.

Dean heaves another sigh, loud enough that Castiel knows that Dean’s just doing this to provoke him. Castiel dutifully ignores him, until Dean rests his hand just above Castiel’s knee.

It gives him a shock, but he keeps working. Until Dean leans in and starts kissing Castiel just below his ear.

“What are you doing?” Castiel asks breathlessly, as his boyfriend brushes his lips down the length of his neck.

“I’m taking a break,” Dean says against his skin. “Can’t study too hard, ‘s not good for you.”

“Dean,” he chastises, but the rest of his sentence is lost in a gasp as Dean moves to press their lips together. Closed-mouthed, at first, but then Cas is parting his lips easily, letting Dean’s tongue inside his mouth—he tastes like peppermint gum and smells like apples, and Cas’ mind goes blank, lost to sensation.

This happens a lot, now that Dean took the plunge and kissed Castiel for the first time. There are moments like these, where he finds some excuse to kiss him, and who is Castiel to refuse him? It’s a little like making up for lost time, but all the same Castiel loves it, and can’t get enough of Dean’s kissing.

His hands slip down the front of Dean’s shirt, grasping it near the hem. Dean’s hand is firmly planted on the side of Cas’ neck, holding on tightly. In the back of Cas’ mind, he’s aware that his mother could walk in at any moment and find them out, but he’s not worried about that right now.

In fact, he’s not worried about anything.

But there’s a sudden change in the air that happens to both of them at once. Suddenly, Castiel is leaning in to Dean with more force, and Dean’s lips are moving against Castiel’s with more purpose than before. Dean gasps, and Castiel takes the opportunity to bite Dean’s bottom lip. A moan rattles against his lips. Cas shushes him quickly, but all the same he can feel heat pooling in his stomach at the sound.

It’s never gone this far between them. Castiel is at a loss for what to do besides follow his instinct, which is to lie down quickly and pull Dean on top of him, deepening their kisses and run his hands over the broad expanse of Dean’s back. Dean slots a thigh between Castiel’s legs, grinding against him. He’s panting against Dean’s mouth as the boy lowers his hips to Cas’, pressing them together—Castiel can feel how hard Dean is in his jeans, Dean can presumably feel the same with Cas, and it makes them both moan in low tones.

“I want to suck you off,” Dean whispers.

Castiel makes some strangled noise in the back of his throat. _Shit…_ he wants that so badly. He arches up beneath Dean at the mere mention, desperate to resume contact.

His mind flashes back to the time when he and Dean were just getting to know each other—that stupid game that they had played, asking questions, seeking answers. Castiel wonders how the fuck he got here, so different from a year ago. All answers point him back to Dean.

“Are you… is that okay?” Dean asks.

He swallows. Is it too fast? Maybe. Probably. But he doesn’t want to wait. He knows he loves Dean, he knows Dean loves him—and he wants this. _Fuck_ , he wants this.

Castiel nods a little too enthusiastically. “Yeah. Yeah. Please.”

Dean smiles. “So he _does_ have manners,” Dean teases in a husky tone. Castiel ignores the playful jab, resting his head back on the pillow and staring up at the ceiling while trying to catch his breath. Above all, he wants to rip Dean’s clothes off, and he knows that someone might walk in at any moment, but he can’t stop himself.

“My mom might hear,” he warns in a whisper, but he isn’t exactly trying to stop Dean as the boy kisses down his neck, rucking up Cas’ shirt so he can suck at the skin of his chest and stomach.

Dean looks up and smirks at him. “I guess you’ll have to be quiet then, baby.”

Castiel hates that that makes him even harder.

But fear grips him, and suddenly getting caught is all he can think about. What will happen if he gets caught? What will his mother do if that happens? She’s been known to turn her back on her own fucking children before—why should it be any different with Castiel?

“Wait. Wait, Dean,” Castiel says.

Dean sits up immediately, taking his hands off of Castiel in an instant. “What? What is it?” he asks, worried.

Castiel exhales sharply. “We need to stop. I can’t—I can’t.” His muddled brain can’t think of a better response than that.

“You can’t?” His tone is soft, like he’s trying to make sure Castiel doesn’t get scared like a spooked animal. He can already tell that Dean is wracking his brains, trying to think of what he did to cause Castiel to stutter like this.

But Cas just sighs as his dick gives a valiant jolt. Fuck, he still wants to do this, his head is foggy with lust and want, but they can’t do this, they _can’t_. “You didn’t do anything wrong,” he says quickly. “Trust me.” If anything, Dean did way too many things _right_. He tries to think of as many things that he can that’ll make him go soft. Baseball. His grandfather. The boring-ass book he’s reading in his English class. All of the above do little to help his situation.

“Please don’t tell me that you want to wait till marriage,” Dean says in a (mostly) joking tone.

Castiel laughs, but it’s mostly breath. “No, that’s not—no.” He sits up so he can look Dean in the eye. “Look at me. Do I really look like I can wait till marriage?”

He sighs again. “We need to wait a little, first of all; it’s too soon. And secondly, I just don’t want to get caught. I don’t know what would happen if we did.”

Dean smirks. “That’s easy,” he says. “First of all, your mother would murder me.”

Castiel rolls his eyes. “Stop. She wouldn’t murder you. That’s a commandment.”

“She’d murder me. Don’t even pretend like she wouldn’t.” He raises an eyebrow, as if what Castiel is saying is absolutely ludicrous.

Cas laughs, leaning up to kiss Dean softly on the cheek. “I love you,” he says quietly.

The boy bites his lip and kisses Castiel back, on the corner of his mouth. “I love you, too,” he whispers back. He takes a moment to look at Castiel, eyes raking over him, up and down. “God, look at you. You’re so…”

“So what?”

Dean gives him a small smile. “The only word I can think to describe it is ‘beautiful.’ You’re so beautiful.”

“Am I?” Castiel asks, a slow, shy smile spreading on his face.

“Yeah, Cas,” he whispers.

“You’re beautiful, too,” he whispers back, reaching up to stroke the side of Dean’s face with his fingertips. “I’m glad I met you.”

Dean chuckles. “You weren’t so glad at first.”

Castiel laughs outright. “Yeah, not so much. You grew on me, though.”

The boy chuckles again and leans in to kiss him languidly. “I’m glad I met you, too, Cas.”

The two lay back down, Cas’ arm snaking over Dean’s waist. Dean lets him, even laces their fingers together where Cas’ palm rests on his stomach.

“Dean?” Castiel asks softly. “Can I ask you something?”

“You just did,” Dean points out.

“Stop being a little shit,” Castiel says.

Dean laughs, the sound reverberating around the room. “Go ahead,” he says. “Ask away.”

Castiel swallows. “I just wanted to know. Why don’t you like… um, God? Or religion, I guess.”

To Cas’ surprise, Dean actually smiles. He can see Dean’s cheek lift a little at the question. The boy thinks about his answer for a second, before he opens his mouth to reply.

“You know how you’re supposed to put God first?” Dean asks. He squeezes Cas’ hand with his own. “Like, out of all the things you love… it’s gotta be God first, then family, friends, and all the rest?”

Castiel nods. He remembers learning that component of his religion at a very young age. “Yeah,” he answers.

Dean continues, “I was never able to do that. How could I love God more than my family? Than Sammy?” He smiles small, leaning in to cup the side of Cas’ face. “Than _you_?”

Castiel’s heart rate is through the fucking roof at this point; his breathing is shallower as Dean says, “I couldn’t do it, Cas. Ain’t nothing in the world, or outside of it, that I could love more than my family. You, included, Cas. You’re family.”

He feels like his heart is going to beat out of his chest. “I love you, too,” Castiel whispers. “I love you so much.”

He turns and kisses Dean hard, trying to show him just how much he loves him. He can’t put it into words — he’s never been good with those. He can, however, illustrate through touch, through his actions. He just hopes Dean understands body language.

He’s forgotten completely the reason why he was so nervous earlier. All thought besides the constant mantra of _Dean Dean Dean_ has left his mind. He’s just about to fucking _climb_ on top of Dean when the boy breaks the kiss, both of them panting for air.

“I need to get going,” Dean says.

“No,” Castiel says, tightening his arms around Dean’s middle.

Dean laughs. “I do, Cas. I have to.”

“I don’t want you to,” Castiel says childishly, and leans in to kiss Dean again.

Just then, however, the door opens.


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *has stopped trying* okay so like... i know i said that i wouldn't take a month to update this fic... but i'm a goddamn liar, kay. at least i updated every city, right?  
> right?  
> (also this chapter is shorter than usual. oh god i'm a mess)

** PART FOUR: SOLSTICE **

+++

 

It’s his mother at the door.

Of course.

+++

There’s so much yelling. It feels like it’s been going on for hours, days—Castiel can’t tell what time is anymore, and he feels shameful and upset for some reason. Apologetic. She screams at him and Castiel just takes it, takes every nasty thing she says about him without a word.

She spouts Bible verse after Bible verse. Things she heard in church as a child. Her own personal take on things. Stories of queer men and what would happen to them if the people of the town found out about them. She asks if they’ve had sex. If he has HIV. Calls him a sinner. A liar. Filthy. Dirty. Going to hell. She screams and screams and screams—

His mind returns to his theology class at school. He remembers being a young child, learning about a passage in the Bible where men had charged a woman with adultery and were going to stone her to death. _They said to him, “Teacher, this woman has been caught in the act of adultery. In the Law, Moses commanded us to stone such women. What do you say?”_

_Jesus stood up and said to them, “Let he who is without sin cast the first stone.”_

How can she quote the Bible when this proof of how wrong and corrupted she is right in her face?

He knows he doesn’t deserve it. After everything she’s done in the past year, this is hardly the way that she should treat him. She shouldn’t be throwing stones.

But there’s a voice in his head that says he deserves it. This is his punishment because he gave into desire—temptation in the form of Dean Winchester. Wasn’t that what Father Joshua had said to him, all those months ago—that he was supposed to resist this? Instead, he threw himself into it, and this is just what he had coming.

“I put you in a nice school, let you live in this nice house, never let you go hungry—I make sure you want for nothing, and this is how you repay me?” she laments to him, while he sits there, sweaty still from his encounter with Dean. He fiddles with his hands in his lap, unable to look at her. It was easier to talk badly about her when she didn’t know about it. Everything was easier when she didn’t know about it.

Thinking on her words, he wonders when it became about her and not about him. Isn’t this his sin to bear? His evil-doing, if it was such a thing? Why is she worried about such things as _reputation_? Why not _salvation_? Why not God?

He’s heard stories of how mothers and fathers send their children away to clinics, therapy—all in the name of God. Changing their children, molding them, confusing them. If he were younger, and not a legal adult, would she do that to him? Would she send him away?

Just like that, he can’t hold it in anymore—his fear evaporates, replaced by the hot rush of anger.

He’s shaking. He’s not sure if it’s out of anger or something else, but he’s shaking nonetheless. When he finally opens his mouth to speak, his voice is shaky too.

“So—what do you think? You think that I’m acting out?” he growls.

She huffs an exaggerated breath. “I wouldn’t be surprised,” she says flippantly.

Castiel stares at her, biting the inside of his cheek. He can take a lot of things. But he’s not pretending. He’s not a liar, this isn’t—for lack of a better, less cliché word—a _phase_. “Mom, I’m gay,” he says, matter-of-fact.

“No, you’re not, Castiel. You’re not gay. You’re either acting out, or curious, or whatever,” she says. What irritates Castiel the most is that she believes she knows her son better than he knows himself, and she doesn’t, she doesn’t, but that doesn’t stop her from saying these stupid, ignorant things.

Castiel just wants to explode. _How does she not understand_? “Yes, I am. Mom, I’m gay. I’m fucking gay. I like boys. I like Dean. Hell—I _love_ him.”

The word “love” is what seems to make her crack. She just shakes her head, repeating, “No, no you’re not. No, Castiel,” while Castiel keeps repeating over her, “Yes I am, yes I _am, I love him_ —”

“Enough!” she shouts, and then they’re screaming at each other, loud and poisonous. Naomi starts screaming that she’s not going to have some sodomite living in her house, she’s not going to live with some faggot under her roof, lamenting over what the neighbors will think, threatening what will happen when his father finds out. Castiel shouts back at her, asking why she would put her reputation over her child, so fucking poisonous— _selfish_ , the word hits him like a revelation.

“You are so fucking selfish!” Castiel screams at her.

“Oh, _I’m_ selfish?”

“Yes, you are! You’re so worried about what other people think when it has nothing to do with you! They don’t matter, but you know who does matter?! _Your fucking children!_ Your children who you scream at and kick out of the house the second they do something you don’t like!”

“Don’t you tell me how to parent, Castiel, you have no idea how difficult it was to raise you and your siblings—”

“Who told you?” he asks, interrupting her.

“About what?” she snaps.

“You fucking know _what_ ,” he growls. “Who told you about Dean and me?”

She freezes. Stops. And that’s how Castiel knows. But Naomi tries to play it off like the idea is ludicrous; she raises an eyebrow. “No one _told_ me, Castiel,” she scoffs. “I just walked in on you two—you think someone had to explain it to me? Either way, Castiel,” she continues, “I don’t want you doing this anymore. This needs to stop.”

 _Stop_. He wants to laugh. As if he could ever fucking stop.

 No one told me,” she says, breaking into his thoughts. The room is quiet except for her voice. In a moment, though, he knows that quiet will be shattered.

Castiel exhales sharply through his nose. “Are you sure? Your timing was _pretty_ impeccable.” Is it a long shot? A wild accusation? Right now, Castiel’s too high on adrenalin to care.

She rolls her eyes and looks away, hands defensively on her hips. “No one told me, Castiel.”

“I don’t believe you.”

She stares at him, not budging. But Castiel is more stubborn than she is—he’ll sit here staring at her until she breaks. It only takes a few seconds.

“A girl told me,” she admits finally.

“A girl.” The words sound dry and hollow on his tongue. “Who?” he repeats.

“It doesn’t matter who,” she spits at him, “it matters that what she said was right. My own son…”

Rage expands in Castiel’s chest, pushing against his ribs, his heart. “I didn’t make this fucking choice, okay?” Castiel interrupts. “You think I want this, you think I want this shit? This _fighting_? The potential of getting beaten up in some fucking back alley and left for dead? You think I fucking want that? It wasn’t a damn choice!”

“Yes, it _is_ , Castiel,” she shoots back. “Don’t argue with me about this.”

He grits his teeth and hisses, “Then explain to me when you chose to be straight. I’d love to hear that story.”

She stops suddenly, pressing her lips together in a thin line. “It’s a _sin_ , Castiel; do I have to explain how it’s your choice to sin and no one else’s?” She glares at him, speaking down to him like he’s a fucking three-year-old, and Castiel has had enough of this bullshit.

“The Bible _also_ says it’s a sin to get a divorce, but look at you,” he spits.

The words are out before he can think about them, but he doesn’t feel the remorse he should. He only braces himself for the next round of yelling that this is going to bring.

He remembers the time he said something hurtful like this to Dean, how he instantly felt awful for it afterwards. He apologized the next day.

But this is different. He doesn’t see himself doing that with Naomi. He’s _glad_ he’s said it, on some sick, selfish level. He wants her to hear it. She should know that she’s a fucking hypocrite with a paper-bound Bible for a shield. She should know that she’s the fucking problem, not him. Not her son.

“Get out.”

“What?”

“I said, get out. Get out of my house. I’m not having some faggot living under my roof.”

He barks a hysterical laugh. “Name-calling. That’s so mature, mom.” Castiel clenches and unclenches his fists, trying to work out his nervous energy.

Her nostrils flare. “Don’t speak to me like that, Castiel.”

“I don’t care,” Castiel says, stepping closer. “You don’t want me here. I’m not living here anymore, so I’m gonna say whatever I please. And I’m going to tell you this: God doesn’t want a follower that’s so hateful towards His other children. I may be in a homosexual relationship with Dean, but at least _my_ relationship with him is loving and true. I mean, I can’t say the same for you and dad.”

She looks ready to slap him.

Ten minutes later, he gets in his car with a bag of his things, his goldfish in the bowl sitting in the passenger seat next to him, and starts driving.

+++

He rings the doorbell to Dean’s house. Checking the time, he bounces on his toes nervously. It’s relatively late, and he didn’t call Dean ahead of time. He should have done that; he doesn’t want to wake anyone… but he also has nowhere else that he could go.

To his relief, Dean opens the door a moment later. He’s still in his clothes from earlier, which tell Cas that he hasn’t been to bed yet, probably. Dean’s eyes widen perceptibly when he takes in the sight of Castiel.

He must look like a mess—eyes red and face blotchy from crying on the drive over here, an old duffel bag filled with most of his clothes in one hand, his school bag over his shoulder, hair sticking up at odd angles from Dean’s hands earlier… but he doesn’t let that get to him. He knows Dean won’t care about how he looks. He understands what’s happening here.

“Got room for one more?” Castiel asks, a tired smile spreading on his face.

Instead of answering with words, Dean takes the fishbowl from his hands and sets it on railing behind Castiel. Then he opens his arms in invitation, and Castiel drops all his things as he steps forward into Dean’s crushing hug. There are tears in his eyes again, and Castiel just wishes that he would stop crying for just _five whole fucking minutes, Jesus Christ._

“I’m sorry,” Dean says in his ear, and it occurs to Castiel that Dean is shaking—could he be crying too? “I’m so sorry.”

“For what?” Castiel breathes. He sniffles, burying his head into Dean’s shoulder.

“If I hadn’t—I was the one who wanted to fool around, and you, you said that we could get caught and I just—”

“Stop,” Castiel commands. “This isn’t on you. Besides,” he pulls back just far enough to look at Dean’s face, beautiful even when he’s crying, “it’s better this way.”

And it is. Even with all the shouting, the crying, and his mother kicking him out of the house for an indeterminable amount of time, there’s no doubt that a giant weight has been lifted off of Castiel’s shoulders. Underneath all the immediate emotions—pain, betrayal, exhaustion, sadness—there is an undoubtable, underlying feeling of _relief_.


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I worked all day on this shit. Enjoy the chapter. *winky face*

Castiel sleeps in Dean’s room. Sam gives them the Look, but doesn’t say anything. John is absent, as usual, and Dean says that he wouldn’t mind if he happened to show up, which Castiel thinks is bullshit but doesn’t mention. Dean tells him that they have both had a late night, and that they ought to go to sleep, and that they're not going to school in the morning, but Sam still has to, which he only protests for a short amount of time before giving up.

He’s not sure if he’ll be able to get to sleep. He’s not sure if he’ll be able to sleep ever again. But, in the morning, he wakes up with Dean’s arm securely around his waist, the warm weight of it grounding him. He slips slowly into consciousness without the helpful wail of his alarm clock.

For a moment, Castiel is at peace. He’s lying in bed with the boy that he loves. The covers are warm. There’s light streaming in through a crack in the shades. He can see dust particles dancing in the sunbeam, rising and falling with the draft.

 _Stardust_ , his brain provides. It’s beautiful to watch and his mind is blank.

And then, all at once, he remembers the day before.

Emotions — sudden and overwhelming — consume him. He cries so much he’s surprised that there’s any tears left in him. He wonders how he’s still able to cry even after yesterday. He can’t believe it, he can’t believe that his mother — who raised him, who loved him, who gave birth to him — is willing to give up her child just because of what some fucking book says.

Dean shifts over in the bed, and Castiel didn’t even know Dean was awake until he’s holding Cas’ head against his chest, shushing his small gasps, wiping away the tears that fall from his eyes.

_I’m here. I’m here._

Whether or not he had a good relationship with his mother, rejection still hurts. Someone who was supposed to love him unconditionally… doesn’t.

“... worry about her, Cas,” Dean is saying. “You’re better off without her, okay? I know that won’t make it better, but you’ll see.”

Castiel buries his head against Dean’s shoulder, sniffling. Dean wraps his arms tightly around him, holding him close to his chest. “I’ve got you.”

It’s a while, but finally Castiel calms, and his mind is clear. He still buries his head against Dean’s chest, is still wrapped up in those arms, because Dean makes Castiel feel safe and loved.

Castiel may not agree with this religion anymore. He may be angry or confused about his beliefs, but he does still believe in God—even if he believes differently from before. One of the things that’s changed, he thinks, is the way he sees the Bible, especially after what his mother said last night.

Castiel hearing stories read from the Bible; he knows some verses like the back of his hand. How many Catholics have actually read the Bible from cover to cover, though? He knows that he’s guilty of quoting the Bible when, he, in fact, didn’t know the entirety of it. How can he base his beliefs off of a book that he hasn’t even read all the way through?

He’s heard a few passages quoted throughout his life. Some are about judgement; some are about devotion. Some—or, most, really—are about giving to the poor. But his favorite, he thinks, was about love.

_If I speak in the tongues of men or of angels, but do not have love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal. If I can fathom all mysteries and have all knowledge, and if I have a faith that can move mountains, but do not have love, I am nothing. If I give all I possess to the poor and give over my body to hardship that I may boast, but do not have love, I gain nothing._

_Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres._

_Love never fails. Where there are prophecies, they will cease; where there are tongues, they will be stilled; where there is knowledge, it will pass away._

He’s so in love with Dean.

It hits him then—how much he loves Dean.  He could try his hardest to fight against it, but he’s been in love with Dean since the moment he first saw him, and he thinks — no, he’s absolutely sure — that Dean feels the same way about him.

They can try to deny it. Hell, they did — but it’s inevitable that they find each other again.

Cas kisses him square on the mouth. Dean’s a little surprised, and it takes a second for him to kiss back, but when he does, it pulls a groan out from Castiel’s chest. Dean’s hands go up to thread through his hair, holding him in place.

Castiel breaks away for a second. “Your breath tastes awful,” he remarks.

Dean glares at him. “Right back at you, pal,” he retorts.

And then they’re kissing again. Cas’ hands go up to frame Dean’s face, holding him there so he can kiss him better, deeper. Dean breathes out roughly through his nose, not wanting to break them apart. The way Dean kisses him is incredible—so sweet, sometimes, but other times, like this, he’s hungry for more, more, _more_.

It’s different, this—it feels like yesterday, multiplied by ten. He wants—he _wants._ He wants more, he wants this, he wants _Dean_ ; for the rest of his life, he wants Dean.

Castiel pulls back for just a second. “I love you,” he whispers.

Dean nods—a little frantically. “I love you, too,” he says, voice mostly breath. He kisses Castiel again, once, and says, “Are we—do you? Want to?”

Cas nods. “I want to.”

“Are you sure?” he asks. He looks worried, as usual, but his eyes tell Castiel all that he needs to know—pupils blown wide, barely any green left around the edges to speak of anymore. It feels Castiel with pride, of all things, that he can get Dean to totally check out like this. His chest swells.

Castiel nods. “Make me forget,” he breathes.

The boy swallows. “But. Yesterday, you… didn’t want to.” He looks scared, unsure, and Castiel loves him even more for it.

But he just smiles. “I was afraid of getting caught,” he explains. “Don’t have to worry about that anymore.”

Dean buries his head in Cas’ stomach. “I’m sorry—”

“Don’t,” Castiel interrupts, tightening his grip on Dean’s arm. “No apologizing. Just. C’mere.”

Dean lifts himself up, and Cas pulls him into a hot, fast kiss. “You need to shut up and stop worrying,” Cas growls. “I want this. I want _you_.”

Dean huffs a small laugh. Castiel can see how the comment is going straight to Dean’s ego, how his face is starting to flush in anticipation. “So we’re _not_ waiting until marriage?” he jokes.

Cas just narrows his eyes at Dean, unimpressed. “If you keep bringing it up, then yes, we are.”

Dean laughs—no, fucking _giggles_ —as Castiel glares at him. Cas is just about to say _that’s it_ , when the boy leans down and kisses him, smiling into it. Castiel parts his lips, and Dean takes the opportunity to deepen the kiss.

Before long, Dean is breaking away to press his lips to Cas’ jaw, moving down to his shoulder. His hands smooth down Castiel’s stomach, gripping the hem of his t-shirt, pulling it up. Castiel arches his back to help Dean get rid of it, and soon it’s discarded somewhere on the floor.

“I’ve wanted to do this from the second I saw you,” he admits, settling himself between Castiel’s thighs. That swagger is back, his voice dripping with cockiness and confidence, and Castiel is damned if that doesn’t just turn him on more. Dean leans back down, pressing wet, open-mouthed kisses against Cas’ pale stomach, with just a hint of teeth to speak of. Castiel sighs, reaching down to smooth his hands through Dean’s hair.

“Gonna make you feel so fucking good,” Dean promises, smirking. Castiel’s breath starts to come faster as Dean’s hands slides down his body, lower, lower, lower, finally settling at the hem of his sweatpants. Dean pulls the fabric down slowly, along with Cas’ boxers, smirking up at him after noticing that Cas is half-hard already.

Dean takes Cas in hand, squeezing the base appraisingly. Then those pink lips are wrapped around him, and Cas’ mind goes blank.

He’s never felt something this good. With Dean’s hot mouth around him, bobbing his head, Cas is pretty sure he could die right now and he wouldn’t even care. He breathes heavily, having to close his eyes soon, because the sight of Dean is enough to make him come, when they’ve just barely gotten started. He knows that Dean’s not going to let him off so easy.

Dean pulls off for a second with a loud _pop_. “You taste so good,” he murmurs. He tongues at the slit, making Cas moan quietly. Dean just smiles and kisses the skin below his navel gently, sweetly, and then swallows him down again, bobbing his head again.

“S-stop, stop,” Cas says after a few seconds. “Too close. Gonna come. Dean.”

Dean pulls off immediately, looking up at Cas from under his eyelashes. He looks, ultimately, very smug and pleased with himself.

“Already?” Dean teases. There’s no heat behind the comment, just friendly joking, but Cas raises an eyebrow anyway.

“Considering I’m a virgin, that’s not really much of an accomplishment,” Cas says dryly. Dean snickers, allowing himself to be pulled up by Cas’ hands and kissed quiet.

“Not gonna be a virgin for much longer,” Dean whispers after a moment. He reaches over Cas’ head for a second and roots through the drawer next to his bed before pulling out a bottle. He smirks and sits himself on Cas’ thighs, opening up the bottle and squirting lube into his palm, before moving a hand behind himself. It takes a few seconds for Cas to realize that Dean is touching himself, using his own fingers to prep himself. His heart nearly stops.

Dean leans his head back and groans. “ _Fuck_ ,” he curses softly, just loud enough for Cas to hear. Cas bites his lip, reaching a hand down to squeeze his erection, trying to stave off his orgasm.

Cas doesn’t know what to do with his hands, so he rests them on Dean’s thighs, rubbing small circles into the skin with his thumbs. He stares up at Dean, enraptured, completely fucking captivated by the way he looks—blushing all the way down to his shoulders, freckles standing out in contrast to his skin, eyes drifting shut and mouth open around a silent moan as he moves his fingers in and out of himself.

“Is this okay?” Dean asks after a moment, voice all breathy and beautiful.

“Yeah,” Cas breathes back. He’s a little scared, a little nervous, but he fucking wants this, so he just sits back and watches as Dean preps himself with his own slick fingers. The occasional moan escapes the boy’s lips, and Castiel can’t honestly think of a more beautiful sight.

He’s excited and terrified all at once.

Eventually, Dean pulls his fingers out of himself with a soft grunt. He starts to crawl up Cas’ body, saying, “Just relax, baby.” He smirks, taking Cas’ erection in his hand and rolling a condom on, slicking it up in a few short pumps. Cas groans, pleasure racing up his spine.

Before Dean can start to lower himself onto him, Cas sits up and wraps a hand around Dean’s hip. Dean looks at him questioningly.

“Want to touch you,” he murmurs by way of explanation.

Dean’s eyes soften at the admission, and he shifts a little to help Cas get comfortable, and then he’s lowering himself onto Cas’ cock, and it’s all Castiel can do to stop himself from coming.

“Oh, fuck,” he whines. He grabs onto Dean’s waist and holds on tight, looking up at the boy as he starts to rolls his hips.

He’s gripping hard enough that there’s definitely going to be bruises on Dean’s sides later, but he just can’t help himself. Dean is so—so tight, and hot, and he feels so fucking _good_. Castiel didn’t know that there was pleasure like this allowed in the universe, and he’s so overwhelmed that he can’t even find words.

But Dean can.

“ _Oh_ , fuck,” he moans as he rolls his hips against Cas. “Ah, fuck, baby, you feel so _fuckin’_ good.”

Castiel just breathes, gasps, because he can’t even fathom his own thoughts right now, much less put them into words.

And then Dean starts to bounce on his cock, and that’s where it all ends.

“ _Fuck_ yeah,” Dean moans. He bites his lip, starting to ride Cas just a little bit faster. “Oh God, mm. You feel so good, Cas, _fuck_.”

Castiel rests his head against Dean’s chest; he can’t even hold it up by himself anymore. Dean’s hands run through his dark hair, trying in vain to soothe him. He can’t last much longer. He wants this to last, but Dean feels so fucking good, and he keeps running his damn mouth, and Castiel can’t hold back forever.

“You gonna come?” Dean asks him.

Castiel just whimpers. He shifts his hand from Dean’s waist to the small of his back, trying to urge him to go faster.

He can hear the smirk in Dean’s voice. “You’re so tense, baby. _Oh_ , baby. You can come.” He grabs the top of Cas’ hair, moving his head so that he’s forced to look Dean in the eye. “Let go, sweetheart. We got all day.”

Castiel doesn’t have to be told twice.

+++

Dean is adamant that Castiel isn’t intruding on his hospitality. Sam is supportive as ever, if a little wary of leaving them alone for too long. There have been several occasions that he’s left for more than fifteen minutes only to walk back in on them making out on the couch.

Going back to school is a challenge, mostly because he has to act normal. He doesn’t like it, but he can’t miss so many days. The make-up work will be hell to get back to.

Cas goes back to school two days after getting kicked out by his mother. He’s gotten several texts from Anna, asking him what the hell is going on, to which he told her that he would fill her in when he saw her in person. Knowing their mother, Anna is probably forbidden to text him.

He fills her in at lunch the next day. She’s nervous as hell, he knows—and her lips are bitten bloody with how much she’s been worrying at them.

“I should tell her to fuck off,” Anna mutters as soon as Castiel is finished with his story.

Castiel shakes his head. “No. You need to stay where you are. We can’t risk her kicking you out, too.”

Her eyebrows pull together. “After a certain point, she has to realize that she’s not going to have any children left.”

“She has Michael. That’s all she needs.”

Anna rolls her eyes. “He’s bound to fuck up sooner or later. And then she’ll have no one to blame but herself.”

Castiel just smiles sadly. “Just until graduation, okay? And then you can tell her to fuck off to your heart’s desires.”

They shake on it.

“I just wish I knew who told her, you know?” Castiel says, taking a drink from his water bottle.

Anna nods. “You find out, you come straight to me, and I’ll fight her.”

Soon enough Castiel sees Dean picking up his things and leaving the lunch room—his usual cue to get the hell out of there. He smiles at Anna, says goodbye, and goes to meet his boyfriend in the stairwell.

When he gets there, however, he’s not alone.

Dean looks supremely uncomfortable as Bela Talbot invades his personal space. Not enough to warrant pushing her off and screaming, but just enough to border on uncomfortable. Dean is trying to politely tell her off when Castiel enters the stairwell. They both turn around when they hear the door open and shut.

Castiel’s eyes dart between the two of them. “Am I interrupting something?” he asks flatly.

“Castiel. What a surprise.” Castiel wants to point out that she doesn’t sound remotely surprised, but he bites his tongue.

“Bela. Always a pleasure.” He smiles.

She looks between Dean and Castiel, crossing her arms. “So, Castiel,” she says, smirking. “I heard you had a nice chat with you mother.”

Castiel stares at her, unsure of what the fuck she’s talking about. “What?”

She cocks her head to the side and raises her eyebrow—and then it hits him.

_A girl told me. It doesn’t matter who, it matters that what she said was right. My own son—_

“You _bitch_ ,” Castiel spits at her. “You _fucking told her—_ ”

“Cas,” Dean warns, putting a hand on his shoulder.

“And I was fucking right, wasn’t I? You know, I think everyone ought to know. We saw what happened when _one_ person found out about you two, what would happen if the whole school found out?”

Cas grits his teeth and clenches his fists, rage rising within him and making his heart beat faster. “Go ahead and tell everyone,” he growls. “I don’t care. You’re just jealous he could never stand to touch _you_.”

Bela’s face flares, turning beet red. “I should fucking _slap_ you, Novak,” she growls. Her hands curl into fists, and Castiel feels a hot, immature rush of satisfaction.

“Is there a problem here?” a voice calls from the top of the stairs.

The three of them look up and spot Ms. Mosely walking down the stairs, her heels clicking loudly and echoing throughout the concrete room, fucking _business_ written on her face. Bela steps away from Cas immediately, and Dean tightens his grip on Cas’ shoulder. He finally drops his defensive stance and turns to face the teacher.

“Did you hear me?” she asks, very close now. “I asked if there was a problem over here.”

“No, Ms. Mosely,” the three of them mutter at once.

“Good. Now, get you gone,” she says. Bela turns on her heel and stalks out of the stairwell, the door shutting with finality behind her, but Dean and Castiel stay where they’re at.

When Bela is finally gone, Ms. Mosely looks at Castiel, eyes softening. “Honey, is everything alright?”

Castiel shakes his head. “I don’t know,” he admits.

She looks between Dean and him, and finally leans back, a mischievous look on her face.

“You know, sweetie, you could do so much better,” she says. Castiel giggles despite himself. “You should see this fool in my class,” she continues. “Goofing off, putting his feet up on my desks—”

“That was _once_ ,” Dean interjects.

“—speaking without being called on,” she says pointedly, turning to give Dean a look. Dean shrinks under her gaze, looking away.

She turns back to Castiel, grasping his shoulders in a firm but kind grip. “So, your parents kicked you out, honey?” Castiel nods.

“You got a place to stay?”

Castiel glances at Dean. “For now.”

Ms. Moseley nods. “That’s good.” Her mouth is still pulled to the side, worrying her lip. “If you need anything, you come straight to me, okay? I’ll be happy to help you out.”

Castiel nods again. “Okay,” he says quietly. She smiles and pats his cheek, and then starts her way down the hallway.

There are people like Bela in the world, yeah. But then there are people like Ms. Mosely.

When she’s turned the corner, Castiel turns to meet Dean’s eyes. It’s a while before someone speaks.

“Okay, first. Don’t use me as a prize,” Dean says seriously. “I’m not something you won.”

Castiel nods. “I’m sorry,” he mumbles. “She just made me so fucking angry, that was the only thing I could think of that would make her mad.”

Dean scoffs. “She really knows how to push someone’s buttons. It’s her specialty.”

They fall silent for a moment, mulling over the words that were just said. Finally, Dean speaks again.

“Come here,” he says. He opens his arms, and Castiel steps into them gratefully, wrapping his arms around Dean’s waist automatically. “You know you can stay at my place as long as you need to, right?”

Castiel shakes his head. “I can’t do ask you to do that, Dean. Not forever.”

“Where else are you gonna go, though?” Dean asks, pulling away for a second. His tone isn’t accusing, just worried. Castiel smiles.

“I have no idea,” Castiel says. But then it suddenly hits him. “Wait.”

“What?” Dean asks.

“My brother.”

Dean raises his eyebrows. “Michael?”

“No,” Cas says, smiling. “Gabriel.” He’s already pulling out his phone, scrolling through his contacts to find Gabe’s number.

“You sure?” Dean asks. He sounds a little apprehensive. “You guys haven’t talked for a while.”

Castiel grins at him. “I’m positive.”

He calls Gabe’s number. It only rings once before Gabe is picking up.

“Cas?”

“Gabe,” Castiel says, letting out the breath that he hadn’t realized that he was holding.

He can hear his brother’s smile when he says, “How goes it, little brother?”

Castiel bites his lip. He doesn’t know what to say. “It’s been so long,” he settles on.

Gabriel laughs. “Yeah.” He sighs into the phone, and says, “Mom wouldn’t let me call you.”

“Same here,” Cas says.

Silence.

“Hey, um, Gabe, can I talk to you seriously for a sec?”

Gabriel hesitates on the other end. “Yeah, little brother, of course,” he says, picking his words carefully.

Okay. Okay. He can do this. “Well, uh, first off—I’m gay.”

Gabriel is quiet a second before he bursts out laughing. “Well, damn, Cas, _I_ could have told you that!” he guffaws. “Jesus, you had me worried there for a sec. Wow, gosh. Thanks, Cassie, I needed that.”

“Gabe,” Castiel says, urgent and pained to his own ears. “Mom kicked me out of the house. I have nowhere to go.”

Dead silence on the other line for a whole five seconds. “Gabriel? Are you there?”

“Yeah, I’m here,” he says. “She… For real?”

Cas swallows the lump in his throat. “Yeah. For real.”

“Shit.” He exhales a large sigh. “Damn, Cassie. Nowhere to go?”

“Actually, I was hoping that… and I know this is asking a lot, Gabriel, but I was really hoping I could stay with you for a while. Just until I go to college, and… yeah.”

Gabe doesn’t pause for a second. “Yeah, Cas, always,” he says immediately. “No problem. You don’t know my address though, do you?”

“No,” Castiel says. “I’ll grab a pen.”

“Okay. Perfect.”


	26. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who read, commented on, bookmarked, or gave kudos to this work. It's been a good nine months writing this, and it's been extra-fun seeing the way you've all reacted to this work as I've gone on. It's finally finished. I love you all, and thank you, THANK YOU, for reading and giving your feedback.

**EPILOGUE: FIVE SOLAR YEARS**

 

+++ one +++

 

Castiel moves into Gabriel’s apartment—which, of course, is above a goddamn candy shop. Cas and Gabe both get jobs there. They make the rent, and soon enough, they’re able to afford an actual couch for the living room.

Gabriel doesn’t go to church like Castiel does. Gabriel is angry with God, or doesn’t believe in Him, while Castiel’s relationship with Him has merely changed. Castiel doesn’t push. He knows that will do no good. The two brothers coexist with each other peacefully.

Castiel makes it a rule with Dean that they must choose their colleges separately. In a stunning coincidence, they both choose NYU—though, Cas believes Charlie might have given Dean some hints.

Castiel is worried as to how he’s going to pay for college—is he allowed to apply for a scholarship when his family is so rich, even though his mother won’t pay for him?

He’s left with one option: contact his father.

 

+++ two +++

 

Talking with his father proves to be a good idea, and not as painful as he thought. His father pays for all of his education, _and_ the New York apartment in which he and Dean live in together. Castiel finds that he doesn’t dislike his father, just that… he’s neutral to the events in Cas’ life. He doesn’t care that Cas is gay. He doesn’t care that he has a boyfriend. He doesn’t care that he’s acing all of his courses. He just. Doesn’t. Care.

And, he guesses, that’s better than what his mother did—was care too much. But it still stings in a way that he can’t quite get a hold on.

He doesn’t tell Dean.

Dean feels guilty for leaving Sam behind on his own. He calls every day. It doesn’t stop him from moping around the apartment. Castiel tries to cheer him up, but the guilt is never too far behind him.

They visit Gabe and Sam at Christmas, and meet them all at the Roadhouse. Ellen and Bobby have both taken Sam in, and Dean doesn’t realize why he worried so hard. Sam assures him that he did what he had to do.

Sam tells Dean that he’s struck up a relationship with Gabriel. They’re good friends now—Gabriel watches out for Sam like a goddamn guard dog, and that gives Dean somewhat more peace of mind.

 

+++ three +++

 

Castiel wants a family. He wants a life with Dean. He wants children, and he wants Dean to be with him for the rest of his life—when they’re old, he wants to sit next to Dean on the porch while they watch birds fly away and kiss him on the cheek every morning.

 

+++ four +++

 

Castiel proposes to Dean, and it’s the biggest fight of their relationship.

Dean goes on and on about how Castiel is too good for him, about how Dean can’t give him what he wants. How he won’t be a good father. About how eventually he’ll get scared and abandon him, just like he abandoned Sam and his father and the rest of his family. About how Cas will eventually get sick of Dean holding him back and escape the relationship. About how he’s so, so scared. He can’t do this. And he’s sorry.

Castiel sits there, shocked, ring box still in his hand, and says in a thick, wavering voice, _If you don’t want to marry me, just say it, Dean, don’t do this for_ my _sake_ —

Eventually Dean leaves the apartment with the door slamming behind him.

Castiel falls asleep on the couch, trying to stay up, waiting for Dean to arrive back home.

 

It takes him three days to cool off.

Castiel tried calling him, but each time it went straight to voicemail. He sent a total of twenty text messages. Each one went unanswered.

When Dean comes through the door to their apartment, Castiel had planned that he would confront Dean right away, demand where he’s been, get angry and in his face, shout to get it all out, but—

What _really_ happens is that he rushes into Dean’s arms, crying, asking him where the hell he’s been, crying even more, and telling Dean over and over again that he loves him, and that Dean was always, always, always, _always_ enough for Castiel and that he’d never leave him, never never never, and that he’d be the best father in the world because he’s spent years taking care of Sam, being the father that John couldn’t be, and that Castiel just loves him so much please don’t leave like that again—

And it’s then that Castiel hears Dean whisper something.

“What?” he asks, sniffling.

“Yes,” Dean repeats.

Castiel blinks the tears out of his eyes. “Yes what?”

“Yes. I’ll marry you.” 

 

+++ five +++

 

Castiel knows that they’re both broken. They’ve both been seeking help. Sometimes, still Dean tells him that it’s still not too late that he can still back out of the engagement. Gives Castiel an out. But every single time, Castiel tells him that he doesn’t need an out. Doesn’t _want_ one. Those times are getting less frequent, but…

Every single time, Castiel tells Dean, “I love you.”

Every single time, Dean says, “I love you back.”

And they’re married in June.


End file.
